


All the ways they said they love each other

by j_obsessed



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Adorable, Boys In Love, Canon Related, Declarations Of Love, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Pure, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_obsessed/pseuds/j_obsessed
Summary: Every single time Joseph Charles Buttler and Joseph Edward Root showed each other that they loved the other. That's it. That's the fic.If you're here for the canon tag, the canon-based chapters are: 4, 10, 11, 15, 17 and 20. I think there are links to almost all of the 'evidence', but I'm more than happy to elaborate ;)Hope you enjoy! <3
Relationships: Jason Roy & Jos Buttler, Joe Root & Chris Woakes, Joe Root & Mark Wood, Jonny Bairstow & Jos Buttler, Jos Buttler & Ben Stokes, Jos Buttler & Zak Crawley, Jos Buttler/Joe Root
Comments: 405
Kudos: 76





	1. Pick-ups and Drop-offs

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stewing over this idea for a while...  
> But I have been really sad recently... due to things we do not see anymore.  
> Because Jossy, today was your day. And I know Joey told you that this morning. I also know that he held onto you for a hug (that lasted a lot longer than you both know is appropriate) and that the cameramen had to cut off before we all got suspicious... <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the only person Jos trusts to drop off and bring home Joseph Edward Root safely... is himself.

Joseph Charles Buttler does not take kindly to being woken up after he’s fallen asleep. Thus, he perpetually has his phone on _do not disturb._

Yep. Always. 

Except, for one person. Which is why, it’s currently 2 am, and his phone has started to ring very loudly, in a way that makes him jack-knife off the bed and almost onto the floor in a haste to pick it up.

“Josssyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

“Joey? What’s happened. Do I need to come to get you? Wait. Where's Ben, why do you sound completely drunk…”

The fact that Jos was completely and utterly fast asleep, doesn’t seem to be impacting his alertness, because Joe has called him and that usually means he’s needed- which usually (undoubtedly always) means that Jos is going to _go_ where he’s needed. He’s already tugging on shoes and trying to fight his way into a hoodie without letting the phone go. He only just manages it without dropping the phone. Seconds later he’s in the front seat of his BMW with the ignition revved, with a bottle of water, panadol and an extra jumper. 

“M’not drunk, I promise! I am the soberest-est person ever. M'just sleepy-”

Someone else seems to take the phone from the younger blonde- a very exasperated voice belonging to none other than Ben Stokes comes through the speaker.

“Jos?”

“Hey Bennie what’s the problem, do I need to come and get him, is he okay, do I need to bring water or panadol, is he cold, does he need a jumper, are you guys still at Salford Quays-”

“Joe told you where he was going?” 

“Uhh… I was the one that dropped him off…”

“You did wha-”

Jos can hear the blonde batsman talking in the background, and it takes everything he has to fight the urges that are telling him to go and squish the pure fluffball into his arms and never ever let him go.

_Bennniiiiieeee is Jossy coming or not?_

_I’m cold I want his jumper._

_Nooooo Jonny not yours. I love you but that is for Christopher Roger Woakes only. I want my Jossy’s._

_I don’t care that he’s not my boyfriend, he is my Jossy._

_Don’t be mean, I’ll hit you with a newspaper._

_I told him I wasn’t drunk but I might be a tiny bit drunk… only a really tiny bit._

_Oh fuck- oh… thank you Chris, maybe I am a teeny tiny bit more drunk than I thought._

_Benniiiieeeeee-_

Jos bites his lip as he shifts the gear, laughing at Ben’s fake sobbing.

“I’ll be there in three minutes with a jumper and the rest of it.”

“But it takes ten from your place?”

“Bold of you to assume I didn’t leave the house the second I got Joey’s call.”

Ben doesn’t respond, and Jos decides that Joe’s probably needing more than just Chris and Jonny to function as a sober human at that point.

The second he steps out of the car, he’s hit in full force by something, _someone,_ and there’s blonde hair in his face and fingers gripping at his jacket and a very distinct Yorkie voice talking about clouds and stars and sunshine and “Jossy you came for me! Thank youuuuuuuuuuuu. Also, I’m cold.” The younger boy pouts and Jos almost fucking dies right there.

Without hesitation, (actually, with nothing more than a very _very_ fond roll of his eyes and a softly whispered ‘I know baby’ – because Joe’s ears are sensitive when he’s tipsy), Jos slips a hoodie onto the smaller boy’s frame, tucks him into the passenger seat of the car and does up his seatbelt before handing him some paracetamol (already popped from its plastic) and a bottle of water (already opened at the lid). When he instructs Joe to take the medicine, the younger blonde does it without a single complaint.

Ben, Jonny and Chris are all blinking at him, confused and a little surprised.

“I tried to get him to take panadol and he told me he wouldn’t take anything unless I read him the ingredients and he was sure he could take it.”

“I opened a water bottle for him and he told me not to treat him like a baby.” Jonny throws his hands into the air in exasperation. Jos bites back a smile.

“I called you six times,” Ben says, playfully offended but very very knowingly.

“And I texted you thirteen times,” Chris says smugly, with an arched eyebrow.

“My phone was on do not disturb,” Jos replies, not taking his eyes of Joe, who’s grabbing at his hand. Jos hands his phone over without hesitation, helping the younger blonde place his finger correctly on the touch button to unlock it. Joe’s responding gasp of accomplishment and sunshiny grin is worth getting up at this hour. (In all honesty, if it’s Joe, everything worth it. No matter what it is.)

“So you were on your phone when Joe called you and you picked up on the first ring?”

“I think it was the second ring, and yes, I was… looking at my Instagram.”

“Yeah, alright Jossy, whatever you say.” Chris pecks his cheek, and the three of them wave at Joe who is happily playing Candy Crush on Jos’ phone.

Ben gives Jos another _look_ as the blonde gets into the car to head home.

As he’s driving, a smaller, more slender hand slips against his briefly. “Thank ‘ou for bringin’ me home Jossy-” Joe yawns, and it’s adorable, but Jos keeps his focus on the road. He doesn’t even have to fight himself to turn his head and look at Joe, because the younger blonde’s life is the most important thing to him in this world, and he’s currently responsible for it. Eyes on the road at all times. Joe Root is precious. “And fo’ droppin’ me off ear’ier too. You’re th’ best Jossy.”

“Of course Joey, you know I just want you to be safe.” 

Joe hums and lets Jos' hand go, aware of how the older blonde is about his safety. He tucks his knees up and wraps his arms around them, intently watching the keeper's face as streetlights flash over the beautiful features.

As he pulls up to his flat, Jos realises, only just then, that Joe called this place _home_. He called _Jos’ apartment_ home. The wicketkeeper smiles to himself as he hauls the young batsman into his arms, and carries him into the elevator, and then into the spare bedroom. Joe pokes Jos’ cheek as the older man hands him a soft pair of sweatpants. It’s a little too close to the corner of Jos’ mouth, but Joe’s a little too intoxicated to realise. And Jos is too enamoured with the cobalt sparkling of Joe’s eyes to care.

Joe changes quickly, the keeper standing outside the bathroom in case he’s needed, in which case he’ll have no hesitation throwing the door open (it’s left unlocked- because Joe trusts him like that.) The younger does stumble right out of the door into Jos' chest, smiling cheekily. The taller blonde rolls his eyes and tucks Joe into bed lovingly. 

“Night night Jossy!”

“Night Joey. Sweet dreams.”

As Jos heads back to bed, he checks his watch. Huh. 2:30. Well. Joe is worth losing sleep for, especially if it’s for a past-midnight pick up. Jos wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it anyway. He falls asleep with a smile on his face. 


	2. Working at the same table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because you need to strike a balance between not enough distraction, and too much distraction. Joe only finds that with Jos.

There’s a plate of chopped fruit sitting between Jos and Joe, both of them hunched over a textbook (or three) each, with workbooks and empty (reusable plastic- because they cannot be trusted with glass, according to Joe himself) glasses of juice surrounding them as they try to complete their uni tasks.

Well. As _Joe_ tries to complete his uni task. Jos is a little busy with something else, and mathematics isn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind, sue him. He really _should_ be doing math, but the sparkle of Joe’s eyes and the curvature of his cheekbones is too pretty not to try and document with his pencil at the top left-hand corner of his book.

Yes, he’s drawing his best friend.

No, it’s not a new thing.

He does it a lot- when he’s bored, or tired, in class, on the bus, or when he simply just needs something to do with his hands. Most of his books harbour little drawings, of lips and eyes and noses and curves of jawlines, tufts of hair and juts of collarbones. Sometimes his tutors will even comment on them, at how relaxed and beautiful the synecdoche is.

“Joey…”

The batsman in question hums, chewing softly at the back end of a pen as he blinks down at the paper.

“Jooooooooeeeeeyyyyy…”

There’s another non-committal groan and Jos can’t help but smile adoringly at the smaller blonde, who is now gasping and hurriedly penning an answer (after fifteen lines of working out and crossed out attempts) to the question he was stuck on.

The younger holds up a finger as he flips through the textbook, letting out a guttural “YES!” and slamming the book shut. “Ugh, fuck chemistry. Thank you for that tip, about the solubility, I fucking hate Mercury. Stupid bitch.”

Jos scoffs out a laugh and grins at his friend.

Joe stops functioning for a moment, because Jos’ laugh is so nice to hear. Working with Jos, whether they’re doing an assignment together, or whether they’re simply going through their own material on opposite ends of the kitchen table, is just so much better than working alone. Or working with anyone else. Jos doesn’t distract him (too much) and he provides a pretty face to look at, along with some decent chemistry knowledge when he’s stuck. Joe doesn’t let anyone else study around him, because they make him uncomfortable or distract him to the point where he can’t get any work done.

Jos is just, kind of perfect for him.

The older boy blinks at him momentarily, and Joe quickly shakes himself out of his head.

“Right, sorry Jossy, what was it you wanted?”

“Can you help me? Uh, with math?”

“With math? _You…_ want _my help…_ with… _mathematics…"_ Joe leans over the table and presses the back of his hand to Jos’ forehead, and then to the side of his neck. "I don't buy it."

Jos instinctively fights to stop himself from leaning into the touch. "I'm serious, I do," he adds, nodding softly, and relishing in the way his best friend looks a little surprised but so _pleased._

“Of course I’ll help. We’re working at the same table for a reason Jossy, you help me with Chemistry, I help you with… math, apparently.” Joe gives him a bit of a look. Fine, maybe Jos doesn’t exactly need help with math, but, the sunshine grin Joe gives him whenever Jos asks for his assistance is keeper’s favourite thing in the whole wide world, okay?

_Yes, Jonny, it’s even better than taking a spectacular catch behind the stumps in under 19s cricket._

_Y_ _es Chris, it’s even better than icing freshly baked brownies with the new girl at the café we work at._

_Yes, Bennie, Joey’s sunshine grin is better than anything to do with Britney Spears, I don’t see why you’re obsessed, she doesn’t have- shut up Ben I’m not in love with him, don't make me call Mark._

“What is the problem?”

“Uh, just some quadratics?”

“Jossy. I already know you don’t need my help for quadratics.”

“Please Joey? I’m having a mental blank.”

The wide pleading eyes that Jos gives him, coupled with the hopeful smile and ‘please Joey?’ have the younger boy melting. He playfully rolls his eyes, and tugs the math textbook towards him, waving a hand to Jos and motioning for him to bring his chair closer.

“So, all you need to do for this one- because it’s a circle equation, is complete the square. And basically it’s just a two-step method to-”

Jos nods along as Joe speaks, subconsciously sketching at the drawing he’d started earlier, filling in a little shading at the inner corners of the eye and stroking his pencil over the page softly to capture the flourish of blonde-brunette eyelashes. 

“So Jossy, what’s the answer?”

“(x+4) squared plus (y-2) squared equals zero,” he answers without a heartbeat, before clapping a hand over his mouth. 

“I barely even read out the question…” Joe fixes him with an unimpressed look, but the younger is failing to hide his smile. “Joseph Charles Buttler you did not need my help.”

Jos realises he’s been caught, but grins up at the smaller blonde anyway, giving him a cheeky pass. “But I do so love to watch you do math,” he says, before grabbing a strawberry and feeding it to Joe, who pouts angrily. “Whaaaat, I just like working next to you, I like seeing the way you go through things. It’s just, nice. Sue me.” 

“It’s nice working with you too.” Joe gives him a smile, lips a little pinker due to the redness of the fruit, and Jos has an inexplicable need to start drawing again. When Joe leans over to look at his book, he doesn’t try to be surreptitious and hide the sketch. _Joe couldn’t possibly know who it is based off anyway,_ he thinks, continuing to add sparkles to the eye on paper, musing over the way that he'll never be able to get it to look as beautiful as the real thing.

A few days later, they’re back on the same table, studying for their anatomy final, (the class they have together), when Jos catches sight of a pair of eyes drawn in the bottom corner of Joe’s anatomy workbook, that look remarkably like _his_ eyes.

When Joe asks for his help with remembering the quadricep muscles, Jos throws an empty wrapper at him because _we'_ _re fucking exercise science majors Joseph, don't give me your bullshit,_ earning himself a mellifluous laugh.

Jos names them anyway. He doesn't care, because he's working with Joe, at opposite ends of his kitchen counter table, and yeah, it _is_ really nice. 


	3. Adjusting collars, ties and the lot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you get invited to a wedding that isn't your own, and you need to make sure that you and your plus one, look perfect. 
> 
> Dedicated to @Rosetylars. Luc, I adore you, I hope that tomorrow is better.

“So, Joey? What do you think? Do I pass as your date?”

Joe basically chokes on his breath. Jos looks mildly alarmed and he hurried soothes his hand up and down Joe’s back, being careful not to crinkle the smooth expanse of the boy’s dark grey suit jacket.

_Holy fuck._

That’s not an image Joseph Root was prepared for. Not at all. Not in his twenty-three years of being alive, was he ever told to be prepared for that.

Jos looks beautiful. Not like, _good,_ not even just _pretty._ God no. It’s a little much.

An oxford blue blazer, over a crisp white button-up.

Okay, sounds uneventful, but Joe’s not done yet.

It’s a satin crepe blazer with black lapels, cut beautifully to match the sharp angles of Jos’ shoulders and the trim of his waist. Slim, tight fitted black trousers, that curve over the muscles in his legs gorgeously. The shirt is freshly ironed, and the _kicker,_ the one that Joe is seriously struggling with- Jos hasn’t put his tie on yet.

The top three buttons are _undone._ Christ.

His best friend always looks good, but Jesus fuck they should teach students in schools about the tuxedo effect, because _fuck_ , does it exist, and _fuck_ does it make your brain do some interesting things.

“I hope that wasn’t you dying because you’re regretting your decision to take me as your plus one to Tim and Steve’s wedding…” _Even though I already got an invite..._

“Oh yeah, I’m regretting my decision alright, you’re gonna show me up and you’re not even trying.” Joe grins, rolling his eyes as he brushes his thumb against the left shoulder of Jos’ suit. _There isn’t even any fucking padding, that’s just his fucking shoulder oh wow alright-_

Yeah, Joe is struggling. But then Jos laughs and he has to grin because there’s a flush high on the keeper’s cheeks and he’s shaking his head as he turns to the mirror, fiddling softly with his collar.

Joe watches, glued to his spot, leaning against the wardrobe as Jos flicks the collar upwards and attempts to secure the tie with nimble, agile fingers. A simple satin tie, the same colour as the keeper’s suit, and Joe is forcing himself not to grip at the edge of the wardrobe in fear of slipping to his death. Joe is so mesmerised watching, that he almost misses Jos’ unimpressed huff. Almost. But he does look up and he does need to cover his mouth for fear of seeming utterly disrespectful.

“Is this why you spent two hours on the phone with me last night arguing that ties aren’t compulsory at weddings. Really, Jos? Are you for real? Seriously?”

“Heyyyyyy,” Jos’ pout and soft ‘hmpf’ are quite possibly the most endearing things that Joe has ever heard but he is not thinking about that so, move along, please. “Don’t be mean Joey, I’ve just never needed to tie one myself.”

Joe is having a very serious mental crisis. One on hand, he could definitely reach up and fix Jos’ tie, but that would mean that he’d be about two centimetres from Jos’ face, and he’s not sure how much mental strength he has left to be able to handle that.

“Joey?”

Joe blinks himself out of it and looks up. “Hm?”

“Could you please help me?” he asks, holding his right palm out, with the strip of fabric resting across it perfectly. Joe lets out a weak sigh and smiles up at his friend.

“Of course. Come,” he says, taking the fabric delicately as Jos comes to stand in front of him, a breath away. Joe focuses on the task at hand, tucking the tie under the collar and pulling it through properly. Just as he’s about to slip it into a knot, Jos’ hand stills his.

“Uh, maybe, I have a better idea.”

Joe does really well to not to show the look of disappointment and then mild relief that should be gracing his face. Disappointment, because _of course Jos doesn’t want me this close,_ and relief because _if I was going to continue to be this close, something was undoubtedly going to happen._

But if Joe thought that was the end of it, he was sorely mistaken.

Jos’ fingers reach up to his neck, and slowly take off the tie that Joe had spent five and a half minutes getting on, and getting perfect.

“W-What are you doing?”

“I think, that this one-” he points to the tie half lodged around him, “would look better on you,” he says, as he places the black fabric in Joe’s hands. He pulls the navy tie from his neck, thumbing the satin gently, before tying it perfectly under Joe’s collar, smoothing the cloth down, and tucking the excess material into the waistcoat, with a satisfied hum.

Joe blinks rapidly, trying to remember how to function. “Now mine?” Jos asks, handing Joe back _his own tie._

_He is wearing Jos’ tie. Oh. Jos is going to be wearing his tie. Oh god. Eoin’s gonna have something to say about that…_

Precisely as ever, Joe performs the task, keeping his eyes on the material, and furiously avoiding glancing at the wicketkeeper’s lips.

He can feel Jos’ eyes training on his face, and he does his best not to blush. Jos is looking at him weirdly, and no matter what he does, no matter how consciously he tries, he can’t not notice it.

Jos studies the younger man meticulously. The flourish of his eyelashes, the carve of his cheekbones and jaw. His shoulders, currently covered by a steel grey three-piece suit, which follows the graceful line of his obliques and hips. Perfectly tailored trousers, cutting just at his ankle, above black dress shoes. Joe looks gorgeous. Always has, it’s not a secret. Jos has always been quite vocal about it.

“You look beautiful Joey, Tim’s lucky to have you as one of his best men.”

Jos reaches behind him and picks up a boutonnière, of a red rose, attaching it to the lapel of his grey suit. Joe blinks again. Red rose, on his suit. Joe is Not Functioning™. The only thing that would make this any better- yep, there it is. 

He watches with a fond smile, as Jos attaches an exact replica, _but in white,_ to his own suit. Joe rolls his eyes. “You’re terrible.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Jos grins, as they both head out of the Sydney Four Seasons hotel room. Joe briefly registers, only very briefly, that Jos _does_ know how to tie a tie. _Perfectly._ He rolls his eyes again, but with a smile that's too fond to be seen in public. 


	4. Picking someone up after a fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, people stumble and hit the ground. But there's always one person who'll be by your side to pick you back up, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jos is a fantastic wicketkeeper and that is all I have to say.   
> Also I must mention, that all of this is canon, Jos did land at Joe's feet twice, and both reactions were Joe's authentic reactions. Basically they're married that is all.

Jos runs himself ragged behind the stumps.

It’s not exactly a secret to anyone. If you’ve ever watched him keep for a match, live, on TV, or even just heard about it, you’d know that Jos has a) no regard for his personal safety b) no regard for anyone within a five-foot radius (unless it’s a particular blonde fluffball but we don’t talk about that) and c) he will absolutely catapult himself in every direction, stick his right leg out, _and_ run and then full stretch dive like a _maniac_ to take a damn catch.

Often, right beside him (well within his five-foot radius), is a tiny blonde batsman and test captain of England’s national team- by the name of Joseph Root.

And very often, this same tiny batsman is the one who has to jump back out of the way or pretend not to be extremely worried and panicked, as Jos throws himself recklessly all over the place, somersaulting and shoulder rolling as he hits the ground.

Jos is a menace behind the stumps for opposition teams. He’s really genuinely _terrible_ to face. Because he’s not exactly a conventional keeper. Joe’s always in a little bit of awe when he watches Jos keep, because honestly, and really, dear god, _wow._

(Joe also doesn’t fucking understand how commentators rag on Jos’ keeping- because that man rarely drops a catch. But when he does, the media seems to go at him forty times as hard. Joe’s dropped a few catches at first slip himself, as has _every slip fielder ever._ But it’s not a fucking black mark on his record, and form isn’t even part of it. Honestly, everyone needs to fuck off and leave his best friend alone.)

There have honestly been some fabulous ones, enough that Joe can’t even count them on both hands and feet. But there are some, that just stand out.

The time he stuck his right leg out and saved a four down the leg side and _also_ stumped Sarfaraz on 97 from a delivery off Mo. The fact that James Vince got to Jos before he did, doesn’t hurt Joe at all. He swears.

And the other time, in a match against Australia, where he ran halfway down the pitch while pulling off his keeping glove, flying into the ground, picking up the ball and throwing it at the stumps, smashing through the zing bails and running out the captain... Even Nasser was impressed.

The catch off Guptill’s edge in the world cup- not in the ‘daylight robbery’ match (not Joe’s words, he doesn’t remember where he heard them though…), but in the rounds. Jos practically flew to his left, a good two metres, and one arm grabbed a spectacular catch down the leg side. Martin Guptill himself was awestruck. Joe absolutely bolted to the wicketkeeper’s side, he was _not_ going to have another James Vince moment, no thank you.

But there are times when Jos takes it a little overboard. And those times, Joe really really has to try his absolute best not to run to the wicketkeeper and convince himself that Jos isn’t hurt, isn’t injured, and is still there for him to… _yeah._ Most of the times, he fails miserably.

It’s difficult- because while it is Jos’ job to throw himself all over the place and put his body on the line for the team, Joe wishes that as someone fielding at first slip, he didn’t have to stand there, unable to do anything but hear his keeper’s occasional groan of pain, or literally _feel_ the air whoosh past him as Jos dives, or watch the gloveman fall at his feet to save boundaries.

Still, there’s no way in hell that Joe will leave that field position. Ever. Because it means that he can, in the event it is required, pick Jos up and brush the dirt from his shoulders and assure _himself_ that the taller blonde is okay _._

So when they’re playing Pakistan in their first test, and Jos literally flings himself to the right without any care for his body, (diving mid-air to save an edge from Babar Azam from going for four) and lands at Joe’s feet with a pained groan, the younger can’t help himself. Because it sounded like it hurt. And his brain is flying a million miles an hour with _Jos is on the ground at my feet and I’m not doing anything about it, Joseph fucking Root get your goddamn shit together right now._

Immediately he drops to the grass, brushing the keeper’s shoulder with his hand, and pulling him to stand up. The ball has been saved, but Joe really doesn’t care. Not at all.

Jos flexes and rotates his shoulder, as Joe presses his fingers around the joint, reassuring himself, more than Jos, that he’s alright. Ben looks at him worriedly, but Jos shakes his head and resumes his position behind the stumps.

The ginger walks over to Joe immediately. “He’s okay? Are you sure? That looked nasty, he landed right on his shoulder.”

“I was the one who pulled him off the ground Bennie, he’s okay, for sure, I had a feel of his shoulder, he’s alright.”

Ben gives the blonde a soft smile and goes back to his spot in the slips cordon.

It happens again, just the next day. Jos throws himself just in front of Joe to stop a ball from running away to the boundary. (Joe knows, the whole team knows, really, why he’s been so reckless behind the stumps. Jos never drops catches, but, he did, and it’s hurting him.)

Joe trips over the keeper’s body and winces at his lack of gracefulness, landing almost square on top of the Jos. The man in question tries to brace his hands above him, to ensure the younger blonde doesn’t hit the floor. Once again, the ball has been saved, but Joe can’t focus on that. It doesn’t matter. He pulls himself up and hurriedly checks over Jos, stroking his fingers across the keeper’s back and looking into his eyes. Jos gives him a smile, and Joe squeezes his bicep.

When the match is over, and they’ve gone one-up in the series (thanks to a spectacular knock from one Chris Woakes and one Jos Buttler), Joe drops down next to Jos in the changeroom on the floor, backs against the lockers.

“Thank you,” Jos says to him.

Joe squints. “The fuck are you talking about? I should be thanking you.”

The keeper grins, huffing out his first genuine laugh in _days._ “For helping me up when I fell.”

“Jos I don’t think that’s something you need to thank me for, I was worried about you, I thought you’d hurt yourself. I wasn't going to stand there right beside you and _not_ help you.”

“That’s not what I meant. _Thank you for picking me up, when I fall,”_ he adds. Joe’s still confused. Jos shakes his head and rests it on the younger blonde's shoulder, whispering, _“remember who you are.”_

Oh. That. The younger blonde has to smile. In fact, he smiles so hard that the keeper currently leaning on his shoulder can feel it, and turns to look at him, mirroring his grin. “Oh, Jossy. You know I always will.”


	5. Post-it notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you need a tiny pick-me-up message. And what better way to receive them, than to have them stuck all over everything you own?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have had a ✨bad day✨  
> this is my attempt at fixing it

Joe’s had an absolute shithouse of a day, really. From the moment he woke up, shit’s just hit the fucking fan. He barely even got any sleep actually, too hot, too cold, too many blankets, not enough, pillow too warm, too quiet but also too loud. So he already was unrested and grouchy. Then obviously, he had no tea left in his cabinet, because of course, it’s just that type of day. When he did finally get some goddamn tea, it wasn’t any good, _and_ it burnt his tongue.

He was fifteen minutes late to training and got yelled at by one of the coaches. Then he realised that he was missing his New Balance bat, the one he was supposed to use for today’s practice game. He also happened to figure out that he left his water bottler and protein shake on the kitchen counter, along with his lunch. Then, when Joe texted one of his outside-of-cricket-friends that Ali strongly suggested he have (why- Joe doesn’t know, cricket is his fucking life) about the new NB bats and his deal with the company, she completely shrugged him off with no regard. That stung. 

So he’s sitting in the changerooms feeling very done with the world and trying to fight back angry and frustrated tears when a tiny little square of yellow paper catches his eyes. It is slightly crumpled, only very slightly, resting in the side pocket of his training bag. Joe knows that he didn’t put it there and that it hasn’t been there since this morning, because that poor bag has taken some decent abuse from the ground, the bench, and the lockers that it’s been thrown against today.

Nevertheless, Joe reaches over to pull the little yellow note out. He realises it’s actually attached to a sandwich bag containing a freshly made egg and lettuce sandwich- made perfectly the way he likes. Joe blinks confusedly.

_Haven’t seen the sun today… so when you smile, let me know._

He grins and shakes his head in disbelief- because what kind of sappy bullshit is this. He doesn’t know who’s written it, but it’s disgustingly adorable. The handwriting is pretty too. He’s spent a good four minutes re-reading the note and then scrunching up his face. (And then reading it again.) He folds it carefully and tucks the note into his pocket. For the rest of his day, nothing can bother him at all.

Not Even when it rains halfway through training and he gets soaked and doesn’t have his towel, it doesn’t matter. (Jos offers him his one, and Joe actually does consider crying, but thankfully he holds himself together.)

Even when his shoes leave splotches as he walks into his apartment, messing up the floor he had just vacuumed and steam cleaned three days ago.

Even when the hot water stops working halfway through his shower and he has to run out halfway to flick the generator on and off.

Nothing kills his mood. Joe takes the folded note from the pocket of his hoodie and keeps it on his bedside table.

After that day, they become even more frequent. Joe has had to get a glass jar and leave it at his bedside table for all the notes he’s been finding. At first, he only ever finds them when he’s having not so good days.

Like, the one day where he made a duck in their practice match and was told to “pull his game up if he was serious about his place in the team.” There was a little blue post-it, stuck to his locker door. _I don’t understand the fuss, Alastair Cook himself has been dismissed for a few ducks, you must be on the right track._ Joe smiled despite his best efforts.

Another, where the media had first started taking to the revolutionary opinion that Joe isn’t fit to be test captain and that his lack of runs should be grounds for the replacement of his name with Babar Azam’s in the fab four. He’d walked up to his hotel room in South Africa after a strategy meeting and seen a yellow post-it stuck on the door, a bit bigger than usual, with more writing.

_Joseph Root:_

_Avg. test score: 52.8_

_Test match centuries: 17_

_Test match half-centuries: 47_

_Matches won as captain: 19 of 38_

_Highest score: 254 v Pakistan_

_One of, if not the best cricketer- and captain that I’ve ever seen and played with. Cooky didn’t pick you for no reason, Joey._

Joe almost broke down right there in the fucking doorway. Bennie had walked past, glancing momentarily at the note crumpled in Joe’s hand, before tugging the blonde a quick hug and then slipping into Jos’ room.

Soon, he starts finding them everywhere.

 _Hopefully, someone makes you smile today; your smile is too pretty to be hidden._ Placed on his favourite bat, not stuck, only placed. Because Joe is finicky about his bats.

 _Your sweater paws are the most endearing thing in existence._ In his wallet.

 _Your chatter at first slip is the only reason I make it through test matches anymore._ Stuck to his phone.

 _That was some outrageous batting Joseph Root. I don’t want to ever see you doubt your abilities ever again. A proper captain’s knock._ Placed on his shirt outside the showers.

 _You remind me of Anna, from frozen. Fiercely loyal, loves her family, always there for anyone who needs her. You may not have ice powers, but you’re one hell of a fighter._ Posted to the grill of his helmet.

 _Best of luck today, even though I know you won’t need it._ Stuck to his right shin-pad.

 _I’m so proud of you Joey, I knew you could do it._ Laying on his unpacked kit-bag.

 _Have I ever told you how cute you look when you stumble into the team lounge at 6 am?_ Hiding in the pocket of his hoodie.

 _You know… maybe I’d be your Kristoff…_ Kept on his bedside table.

 _It’s batting, not chemistry ;) You know this, you can do this._ Tucked into the pocket of his trackpants.

Oh. Chemistry eh? _Well then._ Joe maybe has an idea of who’s dropping him notes now… to be honest, he's suspected for a while. He grins as he folds it up, and tucks it into his jar. He’s not going to say anything, if his mystery messenger sweetheart wants to remain a mystery, he’ll allow it.

\--

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Uhhh... What are you talking about Bennie?”

“I just saw Joe standing outside his hotel room door with another post-it note in his hand, looking about three seconds from bursting into tears of relief. It’s you, isn’t it?”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No one else knows his stats off by heart.”

“You can literally get them off the internet and write them down?”

“We didn’t have access to our phones today.”

“Could’ve been anyone Bennie…don't exactly know why I'm being grilled.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” The ginger turns to leave, before tilting his head back from the doorway. “By the way, two things actually, one; I never said the note was about his stats, and two; you should really hide the packet of post-it notes in a less conspicuous place... under your quilt isn’t exactly good enough Buttler,” he winks and dashes away as Jos launches a pillow at his head. The keeper rolls his eyes. Ben’s good though, he won’t say anything, and even if he does, Jos will keep writing notes anyway. Anything to see Joe smile.


	6. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you're the trophy wife, and sometimes, you have the trophy wife. Jos and Joe do it well.
> 
> It's grossly cute, but, I mean, you knew that was coming.  
>  And I will never stop with the symbolism of flowers for these two. Never.  
>  I will die on this hill.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Joe doesn’t even have to look to know that Jos is grinning. He can hear it in the way the keeper laughs, unguarded and a little surprised, but always so pleased and relaxed.

“I’m a housewife now, am I?” Jos says cheekily, rolling his eyes and bracing a hand on his hip exaggeratedly. “Should I grab myself a mixing bowl and a bandana? Which, _by the way,_ I haven’t been able to find, know anything about that?”

Joe grins and gives Jos the most suspiciously unsuspicious look he can manage from the hallway. “Nothing wrong with being a housewife Jossy,” he yells, toeing off his shoes.

Jos turns back to the pot he was leant over, mixing through whatever he seems to be cooking. It smells good, and Joe has always, always loved staying at Jos’ place- for many reasons, but this one in particular. “Especially if the husband is earning 1.2 million pounds per year as the skipper of the national test team,” comes the retort from the wicketkeeper.

Now Joe rolls his eyes. “Shut up Jossy.” The younger can see Jos’ suppressed smile, a little clouded by a look of thoughtfulness, as he tastes what seems to be pasta.

“You should take better care of me you know, while you’re out captaining and playing for England and being the breadwinner and the man of the house, I’m here, all alone, every day, making you dinner and cleaning up and doing laundry and-”

“Jos. You play ODI cricket. Have you literally forgotten that you are branded as England’s Destroyer of other teams? You earn a mil too, shut up.” It’s all laced with loving sarcasm, and their banter is the same as it's always been, so goddamn easy. Joe fucking loves it here.

“Yes, darling, whatever you say…” There’s a moment where Joe thinks he’s actually won a debate against Jos for the first time in his life. But then… “I still cook your dinner though.”

Joe throws his hands in the air, completely and utterly exasperated. “I never win. I can never ever win.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” Jos sings from the kitchen, and Joe grins. Because he has to. Because Jos sounds happy. And there is some truth to the statement, proven right then and there- if Jos is happy, Joe is happy.

“You _should_ be happy, I work my ass off for you, and I buy you pretty things.”

“What am I your trophy wife now?” Jos has grabbed two plates from somewhere- Joe can har the melamine being placed softly on the countertop as the keeper plates up food for them.

“Oh absolutely, I only take you to all the events because you look pretty on my arm.”

Jos snorts and lets out another beautiful laugh. Ah, the joys of playing test matches in Manchester, Joe gets to live with his best friend. “I knew you didn’t just want me for my wicketkeeping skills.”

"We have not finished this discussion, Mr Buttler," Joe warns, hurrying into Jos' bedroom. 

Once he's finished tucking his kit away and slipped out of his training polo into one of Jos’ shirts, he finally bustles into the kitchen. When Jos realises there’s another presence, he turns away from the two plates, to give his friend a proper welcome home.

But once he catches sight of Joe, he kind of forgets how to speak. For a multitude of reasons.

One, Joe is wearing his shirt. That alone is too much. 

Two, Joe’s hair is in a fucking bandana. _His bandana. Little bastard._ Joe notices the exact moment he realises it too- because Jos gets a smug eyebrow raise from the younger blonde. 

Three, _Joe is holding a bouquet of flowers._ A literal bouquet of flowers. Red roses, pretty ones too. Joseph Root, the most Yorkshire person to ever Yorkshire. Is holding red roses. Jos blinks multiple times, opens and closes his mouth without any words managing to enunciate themselves. “Wait-”

“I told you, I buy you pretty things. Don't tell Jimmy.”

Jos is still malfunctioning, and Joe is smiling at him, and it’s all a little too much. “Thank you for having me Jossy, it’s just a little gift, you know,” Joe is blushing slightly and oh my god Jos is going to actually combust, “for being a great housewife and all.” The smaller blonde winks at him, and by _god,_ the keeper is _seriously_ struggling.

“They really are pretty. Thank you, Joey. Wait, I’ll get a vase. And then we can eat!”

Jos opens a cabinet and bends down to pull out a white ceramic vase. Joe, being well, _Joe,_ whistles softly as Jos pops up from his squat. “Wicketkeeper skills or not, I’d marry you simply for your thighs.”

“How can I refuse an offer like that from a man who brings me red roses,” Jos quips, as he pours in some water and starts diagonally chopping the stems of the roses to fit the vase’s height. “And who earns more than a million a year," he adds, as an afterthought. 

“Exactly. Smart one you are.”

“The rule of 6-6-6, Joey. My mother raised me right,” Jos adds, sticking out his tongue. Joe raises an eyebrow in confusion, and it must look amusing because the taller blonde almost falls over laughing. “Six feet tall, six-digit salary... _aaaaaand..._ six inches where it counts.”

“I’m not six feet, but I suppose I make up for it with a seven-digit salary… And elsewhere.”

“Mmmmm, and you get a pass because you’re pretty too,” Jos adds with a smile.

Joe grabs the two plates and brings them to the coffee table, as their tradition says. (Dinner on the couch, legs tangled up in the middle, as they talk about their days. Netflix is not necessary.) “Seriously, thanks for having me Jossy, and for making us dinner.”

“Anything for my husband.” And within seconds, Joe is clutched into Jos’ arms, in a hug that’s really a lot like coming home. “And seriously, you’re always welcome Joey.” Jos takes a deep breath, and Joe looks at him, levelled, sensing that the keeper wants to say something. Instead, he gets a very quick peck to the cheek, so fast, he almost thinks that it didn’t happen. “Thank you for the flowers, Joey. You made my day,” and then Jos is on the couch, detailing the events of his Facetime with Ali, and how there’s a new goat by the name of Jimmy, who grumpily headbutts everything that gets in his way. Joe looks at the vase on the countertop, and then at Jos, who’s handing him a bowl of freshly made pasta, and thinks to himself, _I’d buy Jos flowers every fucking day if it meant I got to come home to this._


	7. Bringing dinner home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you get so into cleaning the living room, that you forget to cook dinner. And sometimes, people fit so easily into your life, that they know you've forgotten.

“Joey!?”

Jos doesn’t get a response, which is not unusual if he’s coming over to stay in Leeds, the night before a match (he usually arrives late enough that Joe’s given him a key and expects to see Jos beside him in the morning), but it is nearing eight in the evening, and generally, Joe would not be asleep right now.

The keeper slips off his shoes and quietly tiptoes into the apartment- in case his fluffy blonde batsman is actually asleep. But lo and behold, Joe is awake, and Jos has to try very very hard not to drop everything he’s carrying onto the floor.

Because Joe is dancing.

With noise-cancelling headphones in.

While cleaning the living room.

Jos is going to have a fucking meltdown. He can hear the track, very faintly, and recognises it to be The Kooks’ _She Moves in Her Own Way,_ the song that was playing when they first met, so long ago. Soon enough the track shifts to Arctic Monkeys, and Jos is helpless and refuses to move from his spot because Joe is singing and it's _everything._

Joe’s voice is always so beautiful, but when it’s Arctic Monkeys, the accent is perfect, spot on, and the blonde knows the words like he knows the back of Jos’ hand, and truly, it’s beautiful to watch. Yes, maybe Joe is tripping over his feet and laughing at himself, and yes, maybe the living room is an absolute mess, and yeah, sure, maybe Joe’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s a size too big (Jos maybe thinks it’s his, but he’s not sure) over some flannel pants because it’s freezing, but-

It’s beautiful.

He looks happy, relaxed, unbothered. Not something Jos sees very much anymore, much less anyone else. Joe only ever drops his guard around him nowadays, and Jos feels so so lucky. He puts his kit down slowly (hidden away from the younger blonde’s view), resting the bag of takeaway on top, as he slips into Joe’s bedroom. He gets changed, knowing his way around the apartment as if it were his own because he’s stayed here for more nights than he can count, or remember.

There’s a small section, in Joe’s wardrobe, that’s been made specifically for his clothes. (From which a specific Nike sweatshirt is missing, so yes, the one that Joe has on now, is actually Jos’- no one is surprised)

His toothbrush has a little clip cover over it and is sitting in the little cup beside Joe’s. (There’s a specific type of toothpaste too, just for him because he has sensitive teeth, that’s also there in the drawer just below the basin.)

On Jos’ side of the bed, there’s a clip-on torch that he can use when he reads, and a small basket for his watch that he occasionally likes to take off when he sleeps beside Joe, just in case the younger blonde ends up in his space- Joe’s been hit in the face by said watch multiple times…

He smiles at how much this feels like home, how he hasn’t even needed to turn the lights on because he knows where everything is, knows it intimately, as though it’s the iris of one of Joe’s eyes. When he heads back into the living room, Joe is still swaying around, fixing cushions on the sofa and dancing around, humming along to a new song. Jos picks up the bag of takeaway, and places it on the coffee table, before dropping down onto the sofa. Joe’s moved on to the showcase, placing things in the little baskets and cupboard-door-thingies that they bought together from IKEA.

Joe hums a particular note, and Jos immediately knows what he’s listening to- James Arthur.

The blonde on the sofa shakes his head fondly and starts unwrapping the Chinese food he stopped two blocks over to pick up, sure that Joe would not have made dinner, because the younger is a bit of a mess like that.

As he’s pulling out food, he notices Joe has stopped dancing. Jos creases an eyebrow and leans over slightly to see what’s gotten Joe to halt his activity of choice for the evening. He almost falls apart when he realises that the smaller blonde is looking at pictures of them. The two of them.

Holding the frames in his hands and smiling at them like they're precious. 

While listening to James Arthur.

Jos needs to sit down.

He’s already sitting down actually, but it’s too much. Joe puts the frame back in its place, and turns around, noticing Jos for the first time. Within seconds, the keeper has an armful of England’s test captain, along with an earful of very frantic, and very amusing questions.

“Jos! How long have you been here? What did you see? Oh god did you see me dancing? Were you listening to me singing? Oh, you’ve already changed your clothes too oh fuck how long have I been making a fool of myself?”

“Since December 30th 1990 Joey,” Jos grins, as he tugs the younger a little closer before releasing him. Joe pouts and it’s adorable but before Jos can say it, Joe’s seen the food, and… well-

“Oh my god, you brought food. You came _home_ , and you brought us food. Chinese food. Oh my god. Oh wow. How did you know-”

“Is that… is that not okay? We don’t have to eat right now if you’re not hungry I just figured you wouldn’t have made dinner because-”

“Jos. It’s perfect, shut up. I’ll get us plates?” _You know me so well, how do you know me so well._

“No way, we’re eating from the boxes, there’s no way we’re slaving away pre-rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher the night before a game. Sit back down.”

“This is literally my house! You don’t tell me what to do in my own house, Joseph Buttler!” Joe yells, fake-angry and all kinds of insubordinate, with a cheeky grin.

Jos reaches up, and tugs the younger down next to him by his hoodie. He tucks an arm around Joe’s waist and hands him a container of fried rice. “Sit. Stay.”

“Oh.” Joe blinks, flicking his eyes between the barbecue beef and pork fried rice being offered to him (obviously his favourite kind because when does Jos not do anything perfectly) and Jos’ _I know I’ve won this round so ha_ expression, before taking the box and making himself comfortable against the wicketkeeper’s side. “Okay. But I’m only listening because it’s you... and because this is your home too.”

Jos’ grin could rival the sun, and gives his best friend a meaningful look. “You have a really pretty voice, Joey, you should sing more often.”

The young batsman flushes red and busies himself with pouring soy sauce into his rice, remembering only to cover half of it, because Jos doesn’t like rice that’s soaked in sauce for too long. “Bring takeout around more often, maybe you’ll hear me,” he smiles, as Jos launches them into a conversation about the upcoming match and his very uneventful drive ~~to Joe’s apartment~~ home.


	8. Keeping each other warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, Jos goes out into the rain and thinks about the "things" he cherishes in his life. Said "things" do not approve.

“Christ, Jossy, it’s like three degrees out, what are you doing!?”

“I had no idea it would pour down and that I would get stuck outside and that the wind would pick up! It’s alright, I’m just a little cold, not to worry at all.”

Chris blinks, slightly taken aback. The blonde keeper seems awfully calm. But also he’s tracking water onto the carpet, and he’s definitely shivering. But he’s also smiling, wistfully, like the rain gives him clarity on something… or someone. Chris smiles at his friend. Clearly, Jos went out into the rain on purpose.

The Brummie gets it, really, because he used to do the same. Back when he’d be thinking about Jonny’s eyes, and how they’re the same blue-grey colour of the sky when the clouds crash together. Before he was able to look into said eyes whenever he pleased.

Jos gives him a grin, knows exactly what he’s thinking about, and Chris leans over to punch his shoulder.

Suddenly, Chris and Jos’ hotel room door is being hammered at. “Chris! Chris where’s Jos!? It’s been pouring and he went out running a while ago, please tell me he’s come back-”

Chris opens the door and almost gets a fist to the face as Joe goes to continue his barrage at the wooden surface. The all-rounder quickly ducks out of the way, exposing Jos, resulting in a loud curse from the captain.

Joe takes one look at the older blonde who’s standing frozen (almost literally) beside the bed, soaked wet and slightly shivering as he peels off his shirt, and flies into the room.

“Oh my _god,_ Jossy, what are you doing, come here, god no wait, don’t move I’m coming there-”

Chris shakes his head in disbelief. Joe is fucking talking as if they’re rooms away, or as though they can’t find each other in a shopping mall. In reality, they’re five fucking metres from each other, and Chris swears on his life, he’s two nanoseconds away from getting a migraine. He glares at Jos, who just shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

Joe pulls off his hoodie immediately, literally _running_ towards Jos, as though if he doesn’t get there right in that moment, the keeper is going to get hypothermia and die. He scans the room and quickly picks up a blanket, wrapping it over Jos’ shoulders.

“Joey I’m fine it’s just-”

“Jos you need to get into a hot shower, like right now.” Joe tucks the other boy against his side, and hauls them both toward the bathroom. Chris stands there, blinking his eyes and trying to decipher when the fuck those two will get their shit together. It was rain, that’s all, it’s not as though it’s cracking lightening outside, and it’s not like Jos doesn’t love the rain.

The moment Joe is pressed against Jos’ side, the keeper’s body feels warmer. Actually, the moment Joe showed up at the doorway, Jos was hit by ninety six rays of sunshine and felt like he’d been relaxing on the beach- not running back to their hotel after being drenched by Southampton’s unpredictable thunderstorms. “Joey, I’m okay, really, I promise.”

“Jos.” Joe has his hands on his hips and is glaring at him like a disappointed mother.

“Joey-”

The smaller blonde only glares harder.

Chris does his best not to burst into laughter, because _really._ This is what Jos was out there in the rain for. Fuck’s sake. As if it isn’t obvious to everyone and-

“Joseph Buttler.” Joe is now, not so much glaring, as he is appreciating Jos’ naked torso, which still has tracks of water running over the bare skin. Jos is too busy looking into Joe’s eyes to care, and Chris is seriously about to have a fucking case of cephalgia.

“Yes dear?”

“Shut up.” Joe flushes a deep red, and ducks his head down, tugging the blanket tighter around Jos’ shoulders, covering his exposed chest.

The Brummie facepalms. “You know what, I’m going to Benny’s, I need to ask him about uh, yeah-”

Neither of the two blondes have even heard him, and honestly, Chris thinks it’s better that way.

-

Before he can even knock twice at Ben’s door, the ginger’s opened it, and shown him inside.

“Need some aspirin?”

“How’d you know?”

The two all-rounders share a sigh as they each swallow a panadol. “I swear to fucking god-”

“I know Chris, I know.” Ben pats his back softly as Chris collapses into the sofa. “Wanna call Jonny and Morgs?”

The brunette perks up immediately, making himself comfortable to whinge to his boyfriend and limited-overs captain.

-

“If you won’t go for a hot shower, then I will have to take extreme measures.”

Jos raises an eyebrow at him, with a tiny smirk. “Joey, your extreme measures are adorable, I think I’ll take my chances.”

Joe rolls his eyes and pulls Jos by the blanket to the keeper’s bed, pushing him into it softly. He stands there for a moment, as the keeper looks up at him with a smile, before pulling off his shirt and climbing in beside him, and cocooning the two of them under the three blankets that are available at his disposal. “See, very extreme measures,” he breathes out, as he pulls Jos closer against his body, releasing a relieved sigh when the keeper’s skin feels like it’s regular warm temperature.

“I think I like these extreme measures better than any other option,” Jos grins, as he pulls Joe atop of him slightly, eyes slipping shut as he basks in the warmth of the smaller blonde’s aura.

“Shut up Jos. Don’t go out in the rain like that. You’ll get sick, and then I’ll have to look after you.”

Jos opens his eyes briefly, and there's a sleepy smile on his face, and Joe can’t breathe. “You’d do that for me?”

“Jos, I literally almost had a heart attack because I saw you shivering. If you were unwell, I don’t think I’d be able to leave your side. The fact you even ask I swear to-”

The keeper’s arms secure tighter around his waist, as Jos breathes deeply. When Joe presses his fingers against the older boy’s bicep and is met with a warm comfort, he finally lets his body relax. “I’m okay Joey, I promise. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’m your sunshine Jos, that’s my job.”

"Well, are you warm enough sunshine?"

"Yeah Jossy, I'm perfect." 

-

“BENJAMIN YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, THEY WERE FAST ASLEEP, SHIRTLESS, _CUDDLING._ WHAT THE FUCK!”

“CHRIS THAT IS A FUCKING DAILY OCCURRENCE, JOS IS HERE ALMOST EVERY FUCKING MATCH, FEEDING JOE, OR TYING HIS FUCKING SHOELACES. BELIEVE ME, I KNOW!”

Jonny and Eoin both look very amused, through the facetime view on Ben’s phone, as the two allrounders shriek. Suddenly, Chris’ phone chimes.

“LISTEN TO THIS, JOS IS TELLING ME TO KEEP IT DOWN, BECAUSE JOE’S ASLEEP- IN MY FUCKING ROOM.”

The exasperation in Chris’ voice must be hilarious because the three gingers absolutely _lose it._

“You’re all terrible,” the brunette is smiling begrudgingly, before glancing at his phone with utmost fondness.

**17:45 Chris**

_I can't believe this_

_Sorry Jossy, we’ll keep it down_

_Hope you’re warm_

**17:45 Jos**

_Got my sunshine Woakesy_

_I’m perfect_

Chris hands his phone to Ben, who makes the exact same painful-endeared-disgusted expression that he did. Sigh. Fucking idiots.


	9. Taking care of each other while they're sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of course, these two would be the ones who *try to* sleep in different rooms when they're sick, for fear of getting the other sick. And without fail, they will be dragged back to where they're meant to be. Since when is a fever going to stop J2?

“Uh, Joey?”

The bundle on the couch in the team’s physio room does not move. In fact, somehow, he curls around himself tighter with an unhappy groan.

“Joe? Are you feeling okay?”

A large, warm, calloused hand places itself softly over Joe’s forehead before a curse is muttered into the air.

Joe is pulled into an upright position, with a hand braced around his neck to keep him upright and comfortable. His cheek is tapped lightly, but he’s not exactly in a position to respond.

“Joe!” Slowly, the young blonde opens his eyes, coming face to face with James Anderson. _“Oh my god-”_

“Hi Jimmy, everything okay?” Joe coughs out, grimacing at the sound of his voice.

“Joey, how long have you been sleeping here?”

“Not long, I was just resting my eyes-”

“If Jos heard you right now, I think he’d stab everyone in the room and then himself. You’ve got a fever. And you sound like you've swallowed a cactus.”

“Okay so maybe I do- only a mild one, but I didn’t want to go back into our room and get him sick too. Or worry him. Or-”

Jimmy sighs, and presses his index finger into his temple, pulling out his phone and texting the wicketkeeper in question. The reply comes within nanoseconds.

**17:31 Jimmy**

_Found him_

_He’s got a fever_

_Physio room_

**17:31 Jossy**

_I’m gonna stab him_

_I’m bringing blankets._

_And tea._

_Is he hungry_

_Thirsty_

_Does he need a jumper_

_Change of clothes_

_Wait why aren’t I just taking him back to our room_

**17:31 Jimmy**

_Fuck’s sake Jos_

_Just get over here_

A second before he’s even sent the text, Jos has come barrelling into the room and sat himself right in front of his not-feeling-so-well best friend.

_“Joey-”_

Joe gasps and pushes his hand out, colliding with the keeper’s chest, but unsuccessful in it’s mission of pushing Jos back to arms length. “No! Jossy you can’t come so close, you’ll get sick!” 

“Joe will you shut up.” Jimmy sighs, standing. “I trust you’ve got this?”

The keeper doesn’t even turn his face to look at Jimmy. Instead, he places his hands, extremely gently, on Joe’s cheeks, smiling as the younger blonde lets out a relieved sigh at the contact. “Nice to have you back, Joey. Missed you.”

Jimmy exhales deeply, slipping out of the room and closing the door. _Dumbasses,_ he thinks, smiling ~~fondly~~ _exasperatedly_ as he makes his way back to his and Broady’s room.

-

“Did you find him?” Stu asks, looking up from his phone, which is currently displaying Finny’s back- flexing impressively as the giraffe is stirring something on the stove.

“Yeah, physio room. Didn’t want to get Jos sick, so he didn’t go up.”

Stu smacks his palm into his forehead and Steve positively cackles. Jimmy looks at the ceiling and sighs deeply again, prompting the two taller boys to laugh even harder.

-

“Come on Joey, let’s fix it.”

“Jossy _no,_ you’re gonna get sick too, can’t do that, you’re in better form right now, more important to the team, don't-”

“I’m going to ignore everything you just said," Jos utters, and Joe pouts, prompting the keeper to continue "I promise I am doing it very respectfully. You're still ignored though, now shut up and hold tight.”

“Wha-” Joe lets out an inaudible squeak (inaudible because his throat is in no condition to provide that kind of range), and grips tightly at Jos’ back as he’s picked up bridal style, and hauled out of the room. He hides his face into Jos’ shoulder, as some of their teammates walk past, mostly with knowing grins and rolls of their eyes.

“Get better soon Joey, although I’m sure that’s not going to be a problem, you’ve got a personal nurse and all,” Mark grins. 

“Such a good boyfriend Jossy,” Ben nudges with a wink, only narrowly escaping a half-hearted kick from Joe. Chris hides his laughter into Jonny’s shoulder.

Jonny sends his fellow Yorkie a very pointed glance and presses his lips together in a very smug, very knowing expression.

Jos smiles a little bashfully, at all of them, muttering softly “don’t wake him, he needs the rest, and if you need anything, text me, not him, okay?” He nudges Joe’s hair softly with his nose, and sees Mark clutch at his chest as Ben intertwines their fingers. 

“You got it skipper’s boyfriend.” Chris salutes, and dashes down the corridor, dragging his ginger boyfriend with him, who gives them a small wave and a wink.

"They seem busy," Jos grins, and the bundle in his arms shakes with soft laughter. 

Ben smiles at the two blondes (marking how Jos isn’t even mildly discomforted at having held Joe in his arms, supporting his entire weight, for almost, he’s guessing five-ish minutes), and tells them to give him a shout if they need anything, before ruffling Joe’s hair and walking into his room with Mark (who kisses Joe's shoulder on his way), probably to call Eoin.

Jos leads them into their room- (with seemingly no difficulty, because lo-and-behold, he was holding the room key in his hand before he even picked up the younger blonde) and places Joe onto the bed.

“Can I touch you, Joey? I just want to get you into some fresh clothes, is that okay? I can leave you be if you'd rather, I just want to make sure-”

Joe wraps his fingers around Jos' bicep, smiles, and nods. Jos busies himself with picking out the most comfortable clothes he can find. It ends up being a pair of his sweats, and an old Lancashire jersey- which Jos gets approval of with a nod. _Yep, Joe is delirious, definitely. He's going to scream at me for this tomorrow._

He quickly undresses the younger boy, ensuring not to let his hands linger too long, and places all the clothes straight into the washing machine, to Joe’s agreement. He picks the younger up again, and sets him on the counter, leaning against the cupboard, as he boils water for Yorkshire tea- obviously. Joe watches him, as he pours two cups, adding a bit of cold water to each so that they’re the perfect temperature to drink immediately.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I go and grab you some medication, Joey? Or should I move you to the couch?”

“I’ll be fine Jossy, I’m feeling much better already.” 

Jos pecks his forehead and moves Joe’s hand so that it is clasping the counter. _Just in case._ “Okay then, I’ll be back in a second.”

True to his word, Jos is back in seconds, and Joe wonders whether his best friend has a teleporting ability he’s unaware of. Jos pops the tablet for him and gestures for him to take it, and he does, without asking.

“Hang on- what did I just take?”

“Joey, it’s nurofen, the dual-action one, from your bag.” Jos holds the packet in his open palm, calmly, not taking any offence.

“Oh. How did you-" Jos gives him a gentle smile. "Right. Sorry, I just, habitual, you know?”

“I know darling, sorry, I should’ve shown you.”

“It’s okay, I trust you. Thank you.” Joe smiles over the rim of his cup, exhaling happily as he tastes the familiar feeling of Yorkshire tea.

“I’ll always look after you, Joey. Even if you decide to go hide in a physio room, not come to bed, and scare the shit out of me.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t do that again.” Jos’ fingers stroke over the smooth skin of Joe’s knuckles, as they sit (in Jos’ case stand, awfully close to being in between Joe’s thighs) in the kitchen, drinking Yorkshire tea.

Joe smiles into his tea again, he can’t help it, he just feels… _~~loved~~_ _treasured._


	10. Celebrating each other's success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you don't do so great, but your... friend... smashes it out of the fucking park. And in that moment, your form, your score, nothing of it matters- because look at him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all knew this was coming 🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️   
> JOSSY YOU'RE INCREDIBLE IM SO GODDAMN PROUD OF YOU <3   
> AS WAS JOE, BUT ANYONE WHO SAW THE INNINGS KNOWS THAT ;)

Joe is sitting in the changerooms at the Ageas Bowl, as Jos and Zak stand at the door, padded up, ready to play. The sky looks dark and menacing, yet the two cricketers at the door look anything but.

Both have smiles on their faces (one more endearing than the other, according to Joe, but he’s not going to say anything about that), as they chat about their plans of attack, which bowlers to be wary of, and how they’re going to work their partnership.

He smiles to himself, as Jos punches the younger lightly in the shoulder, a soft flush making it’s way onto his… uh, let’s say _friend’s_ … cheeks.

Jos turns to look at him and gives him a grin before shaking his head and shoving the younger blonde gently, both collapsing into laughter.

As the two head out to bat, Joe comes across a video posted on the county championship’s Instagram.

The caption has him _very_ interested.

_Look away now @josbuttler and @jimmya9_ _🙈_

_@root66 took 4-5 in the Roses battle in 2018_

He bursts out laughing when the video plays, and Jos fends a sweep shot straight to leg slip off his bowling and then places his hands on his head- _lamenting,_ about getting out. Joe remembers the day, crystal clear. The delivery felt brilliant, and getting Jos out is honestly a big achievement- clearly, by the way video-Joe is running off the pitch and holding up his pointer finger aggressively. 

Jos is such a drama queen. Joe grins to himself, and hides his face as someone- _Chris Woakes, actually,_ pulls the phone from his hands. “I TOLD YOU IT WAS GOING TO BE JOS RELATED-” the Brummie yells, as there’s a groan from across the room, and a fiver held between two of Broad’s fingers.

Joe snatches his phone back and ducks out of the room before Jos can even turn around to see what the commotion is about. Joe does catch Zak giving the wicketkeeper a bit of a look before both of them burst out laughing again. He looks at his phone again, unable to dismiss the ridiculously fond smile that is refusing to leave his face. He briefly wonders what the two were talking about, but figures he'll ask Jos about it later when they head back up to their room. 

He remembers exactly what happened that day, the two of them sitting in the car as the keeper pulled into the garage (Jos had driven them home after the match). It makes him giggle obnoxiously every single time.

-

“Thanks for driving us home Jossy, sucks you couldn’t drive that ball I got you out with…” Joe sticks his tongue out playfully at his … friend, who’s already halfway out of the car.

Jos rolls his eyes as he opens Joe’s door, holding out a hand to pull the younger up and into his arms in the safety of their garage. “Yeah yeah, get inside, you phenomenal all-rounder.”

“I would tell you to get out, but I suppose I already won that battle,” Joe quips, before shrieking and dodging out of the way, as Jos chases him into the house, both of them laughing and grinning and acting like children. 

Later, when they’re lying at opposite ends of the couch and eating dinner together, Jos tells him “you really did bowl brilliantly, Joey, I’m so proud of you.”

“Even though I’ve got you out? Really!?”

“Joey, even if you got me out in both innings and I got a pair because of you, I’d congratulate you. Your success is important to me.” 

Joe almost throws himself over the couch into Jos’ arms. Almost. “Thank you Jossy, that means a lot,” he says instead, and the smile he gets in return is better than getting anyone out, ever.

-

He leans his head back against the wall, trying to make his face stop contorting into what Woakes would call a “sickeningly-adoring-and-definitely-in-love-smile.”

The boys bustle back into the room as it starts raining down again, and Joe tucks his phone into his pocket and heads back to be with his team.

The rain lets up soon enough, and Joe runs onto the balcony, as Jos punches a beautiful drive to the boundary, leaving him on 99.

When the umpire signals out, Joe feels his heart in his throat. He hides behind the doorframe, pressing his forehead into the metal and trying to even his breathing.

“Joey, he looks calm, he knows he hasn’t hit it.”

Whoever said that deserves a fucking medal, Joe decides, because it’s true. Jos looks unbothered, and the bat has very very clearly missed the ball and hit his pad. There’s clear daylight between the bat and ball, and Joe has to laugh- because of course, the umpire would say that Jos should be out. Of course. 

The moment Jos sets up for the next ball, Joe knows, that it’s going to be the one. Jos does the little shoulder-loosening thing, and flicks the ball straight out toward the boundary, running two, before raising his bat up at the changeroom.

Joe had started clapping before Jos had even completed the run, emerging from his hiding place behind the door frame. But he couldn’t exactly help himself. That’s his best friend right there. Proving the critics wrong, as always. Showing his class, as always. And even if Joe’s had a not-so-good time with the bat, he can’t be fucked to care, because _that’s his Jos right there._

Bessie and Chris both launch out of their seats, and Ollie is banging at the glass and all Joe can think is- _I am so fucking proud of you Jossy. I will give you all the fucking red roses you want._

He stands at the glass, leaning against the door with an unbelievably ~~admiring~~ ~~fond~~ ~~adoring~~ ~~appreciative~~ _happy…_ expression on his face, regardless of his recent performances. They aren't even relevant. 

He stands there on the balcony until they call the end of the session, and even then, he stays there clapping and grinning and smiling like an idiot, looking awfully daft, as Jos walks up the stairs. Joe holds the door open for him, before slipping inside and tackling him to the floor. “I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU JOS!”

The keeper laughs and hugs Joe tightly, as the rest of the boys congratulate him and Zak.

Joe can’t let go of Jos, his body physically will not allow him to do it. He also can’t get the damned smile to leave his face. (Jos tells him that he should never will for that smile to leave because it’s precious, but _Joe_ tells _him_ to shut up.) He supposes that’s exactly what they’re like though.

There will never be a day when he won’t cheer Jos on from the balcony. There will never ever be a day when he doesn’t celebrate Jos’ successes as if they were his own. So when Ollie and Bessie and Chris and Jimmy and Stu _and_ Ben (over text) congratulate _him,_ for _Jos’ century,_ he can’t find it in himself to be anything but appreciative. Because that’s just how they are.


	11. Talking about each other (like they hung up the sun, stars and moon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you just can't help yourself from talking about all the beautiful things you admire about your 'best friend' and then get distracted by them...  
> Joseph Root you're bad at hiding your relationship.   
> Joseph Buttler, you give your not-boyfriend a run for his money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special mention of Zak Crawley because he's adorable thank you <3

“Hey Jossy?”

The wicketkeeper in question groans in acknowledgement, as he tilts his head left to right, eyes rolling back as the joints crack satisfyingly. “Yes baby?” Jos reaches his hands up to the ceiling flexing his shoulders, and Joe tries desperately hard not to glaze his eyes over the beautiful tanned skin of Jos’ v-line that is exposed as the keeper moans happily.

Joe flushes red from the tips of his ears all the way to his toes. “Erm… Uh… Hi?”

_Are you fucking kidding me Joseph Root? Really? Seriously?_

The taller blonde has arched an eyebrow, with a very fond, and _very_ amused smile on his face, as he replies with a very fitting “Hi Joey, something I can help you with?” He’s smirking softly, the bastard, knows exactly what he’s done, and made Joe lose all of his speaking ability. It’s definitely not the first time it’s happened, and in all honesty, if we’re objectively looking at the _frequency_ at which this does happen, it’ll occur again in the next 24 hours.

Joe has actually done well with it recently, the only time he can recall it actually being _noticeable,_ was when he was talking to Athers about Jos and Chris’ unbelievable match winning partnership, after the first test against Pakistan.

-

“I’m proud and pleased that that’s shone through today, and the guys have gone on and-” Joe grins as he sees his wicketkeeper walk through behind Michael, and stand toward the side waiting at the stairs, “got us one nil up.”

“Jos Buttler’s just passed us and walked to the stairs, how pleased are you for him in particular, because earlier in the game, he had some difficulties with the gloves, and, that must have been praying on his mind a little?”

Joe immediately launches into a response about Jos’ mental strength, and his ability to compartmentalise, and play the way the team needs him to. He doesn’t have to lie, or embellish, or make anything up, because it’s all absolutely true. Jos is a selfless player, and he’ll always do his absolute best to ensure his team can get over the line.

“To be able to play that situation as well as he did, to manage different passages of it, there was… you could see-”

Joe looks up (that’s the first mistake), and catches sight of the wicketkeeper, who’s brushing a finger inconspicuously under his eye and standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the handrail, waiting for Joe to come and join him so they can go up to their room.

He knows, he knows he’s on camera but he can’t help grinning to himself. Because Jos looks gorgeous and he looks relieved and the sun is setting and ~~he’s~~ _it’s_ just so beautiful, but he needs to keep talking- “the method in which he was trying to play, making sure that new ball wasn’t a major factor, erm, the calculations in- in- managing risk at certain times against the spinner in particular, manipulating the field… I thought it was extremely- uh- erm-”

The captain looks upward slightly (second mistake), and in the corner of his eye, he can see Jos smiling at him, absolutely endeared and completely and utterly fond, grateful and appreciative. Joe forgets every single word he was going to add, and there are three words that have settled at the back of his throat that he absolutely should not say, but he really really wants to.

Jos raises an eyebrow at him (something of a ‘hurry up I want a hug’), and Joe tries to composes himself quickly. (Okay, maybe he needs that hug too. Shut up.)

“A brilliant innings.” Joe lets out a sigh of relief and Athers shakes his head from behind the camera, mouthing ‘mention Chris you idiot.’ Joe mentally facepalms. “A real brilliant innings and Chris as well, was fantastic.”

Athers keeps him for a few more moments, as Jos gets the memo and walks into the changerooms. (Thank god for Athers, because seriously, these boys are idiots.) The ex-captain dismisses Joe with a lovely congratulations, and the young blonde very calmly walks off the camera, fist bumping Chris, before _bolting_ to the stairs and into the room, barrelling into Jos as they sit down against the lockers.

“You’re too nice about me Joseph Root.”

“You deserve all the praise in the world Jos. You played brilliantly.”

Jos tucks his head against Joe’s shoulder. “Thank you for picking me up when I fell.”

-

“Joey? Darling?”

Nevermind. More like 24 seconds. It’s not like they never use names like this, but Jos does have a tendency to use them more if he’s tired, or sore and sleepy. And he must be, especially after batting for almost seven hours, and then keeping for another few.

“Uhm. What were you talking about, with Creepy at the door today?”

Jos blinks in surprise. “You mean, during the rain delays?”

“Erm, yeah, when you were waiting to go and bat? At the door?”

“OH! Like, right before Chris started yelling about something being me-related and you-”

“YES! Yep! Then. That's it!” Joe’s flushing red again, and Jos is actually struggling to keep himself from tucking the smaller blonde into his arms.

He smiles wistfully, as he recalls his conversation with Zak.

-

“So I think, we let you take on Yasir, and I’ll take on Afridi, and we should be set, what do you think Jossy?”

He gets no response. Zak squints a little, leaning down to blink at his batting partner, who seems entirely too absorbed in watching their captain, who’s just _sitting in a fucking chair and smiling._

He waves a hand in front of the wicketkeeper’s face, back and forth almost eight times, before he ends up accidentally thwacking Jos’ cheek.

“Shit! Sorry Jos! I was just-”

Jos shakes his head and smiles at his young teammate. “Don’t worry about it Zak, I was off with the fairies, what was it you were saying?”

The younger grins, already feeling more at ease. Jos is just, easy to get along with. He’s always felt a bit of a pull to him and Joe anyway, and now he thinks he knows why. “You and Joe hey? _Cute._ So, will you take Yasir on, and I’ll take Afridi?”

“Yep. Perfect.” Jos blinks momentarily, before coming to some sort of realisation. “Wait. No. What do you mean me and Joey? Joey and I… Is that the right grammar…? Not the point. No. That’s not a thing. Not that I’m offended, because he’s entirely way too good for me, but he’s not-” Jos takes a breath, and Zak realises that their wicketkeeper is a little deeper in than he knows.

“I just. He's my best friend. I admire him."

Zak is still blinking at Jos, utterly and entirely exasperated, and he wonders how any of the other boys have survived so long amidst this... _nonsense._

"Not in that way, although, he is gorgeous. But like. He’s so consistent, you know? Successful and he knows his game and he knows his abilities, and his strengths. He’s so mentally strong, and I couldn’t think of anyone in this world I’d rather have as my captain, or as my best friend. He’s the reason I was able to play that knock last week, he’s always supported me and it’s just, nice to see him smile.”

“So you’re married?”

Jos blushes and punches him in the shoulder. “Shut up Zak.” They both collapse into laughter.

“Tell me about him?”

Jos looks over at their captain, and Zak almost has a heart attack just from the way Jos turns his entire body to face Joe- as though the captain sitting on the armchair smiling at his phone is the most precious thing he's ever seen. 

“I just- he’s world class. Not just on the field. There’s never been a day when I’ve gone to him and felt anything but safe, and he’s just. Perfect. And he’ll always argue and say he’s not perfect but, I really, could not tell you one thing about him that isn’t stunning and awe-inspiring. I’m content just being a part of his life.” 

Suddenly there’s a massive commotion on the far side of the room, as Chris Woakes starts yelling “I TOLD YOU IT WAS GOING TO BE JOS RELATED-” and there’s an unhappy groan from another blonde by the name of Stuart Broad.

Zak gives Jos a look, and the wicketkeeper puts his face into his palms.

“I think you’re a pretty important part of it.”

Jos smiles into his hands and shakes his head to try and compose himself.

“Invite me to the wedding.” The older blonde punches his shoulder again, as Zak mumbles “honestly, you talk about each other as if the other had hung up the moon, stars and sun, there'll be a goddamn wedding.”

-

“Jooooossss? Tell me!!! What were you talking about!?”

The keeper has no choice but to pull his best friend into his arms.

“Just, how you’re the one who puts the sun in the sky every morning.”

It’s only been a few minutes, maybe three at most, but it’s happened again. Joe’s speechless. All he can think is that _if I put the sun up Jos, you’re the one who brings out the stars._


	12. Staying through the nightmares.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, the monsters under your bed can't be fought alone.  
> Angst.  
> But happy ending.  
> Some description of anxiety/nightmares, please be safe my loves <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sad.  
> This is what happens when I'm sad.  
> Everyone deserves a Joe in their lives <3  
> I love all of you, I hope you're given a reason to smile today <3

Nightmares seem like a trivial thing when you become An Adult™ but they always come with that same dreadful feeling. For a few seconds, you feel exactly like you did when you were seven years old, shivering in your bed, petrified that there might be a monster underneath you, ready to drag you below.

But when you’re almost thirty, the monsters under the bed aren’t quite so literal. In fact, they never really were, but now you know it.

It’s things like the fear of losing your loved ones, or disappointing them or putting them in danger. It’s taking your job for granted and then losing it, or worse, losing your love for it. It’s the dreams that slowly turn sour, dreams of success and fulfilment _,_ which turn into what-ifs and I’ll-never-be-good-enoughs in the blink of an eye. 

Jos just wants to be okay.

He’s sick of feeling like every time he walks out to play; _he’s going to play his last game._

Sick of the doubt.

Sick of the never-ending commentary that's always focused on him.

It’d seem inconsequential, to anyone else. A nightmare. But Jos is scared. And that’s not something he allows himself to say too often.

Scared of losing his career, sure, yes. But scared of losing his passion. Losing his team. Losing everything he's worked his whole life for. 

He’s spent many nights awake, going over every part of his game, wondering what’s wrong with him. Why he can’t score runs. Why he can’t catch the fucking ball like he’s always been able to do. Why his body hurts and why his hands are shaking.

But he’s also spent many nights asleep, where the worries will follow him. Where he’ll be standing, surrounded, caged in, too tight to take a breath, paralysed- both in fear and in weakness.

Every cell in his body screams in agony, the disappointed remarks of all the people who ‘believed in him’, words like knives, only they hurt so much more than physical blades ever could.

It’s too loud, and it’s too much, and the noise doesn’t stop but at the same time it doesn’t do anything to overrun the barrage of thoughts telling him he’s just not good enough anymore.

It’s like he has no control anymore.

He’s aware he’s not in the fully conscious reality, but there’s nothing he can do to pull himself from it.

Jos feels childish. He’s so consumed, so fucking frightened that his body is giving up on him. What kind of person has nightmares over cricket? He’s so lucky, to be doing something he loves, to be surrounded by a team he loves.

_But he’s going to lose that because he’s disappointed them because he’s not as good as he’s been made out to be and because he is what people always told him he'd be. A disappointme-_

There are hands, clutching at his biceps, shaking him awake, as he lurches upright with a shuddering gasp, hands gripping at his duvets, body shaking with cold sweats and chest heaving, as though he’s just run a marathon.

Soothing fingers run through his hair, which is damp with sweat, pushing it back from his forehead, as his lungs finally take in _air._

His head is pounding and he feels utterly helpless, and he wishes, he was back in Somerset, asleep in his childhood bed, with his mother to run to because he just wants to feel okay again.

He only just seems to realise, that there’s another presence in the room. He’s so accustomed to it, that he didn’t really realise that it was there.

The same hands, smooth and effortless, but cold, rest under his chin, as they cup his face delicately.

There’s only ever one person he’d trust to be around in this state. He’s thought about it. It’s never happened until today, but if there was ever a person, he’d let his guard down in front of, it’d be him.

“Can I fix it?” It hurts to hear. Because his voice is choked as well, and even though he doesn’t sound scared, the worry in his tone is unmistakable to Jos. Tentatively, he reaches forward, sighing in relief as their hands enlace together, palms still shaking, until slender fingers slip through his, holding tight.

“I don’t think so,” he chokes out, throat still getting used to having oxygen within its reach.

“Okay.” And then his best friend is crawling into bed beside him, and leaning his head against his shoulder, fingers stroking softly against the hair at the back of his neck. “It’ll be okay. Whatever it is. It might not be now. But it will be soon.” There’s a brush, just a very very tender brush, of lips against the crown of his head, and a deep breath, as he pushes his face further into the offered shoulder, taking steadying breaths which smell and sound and taste like _home._

Nevermind that it’s not Somerset. And nevermind that he’s still short of runs and short of spirit and just falling short of being happy. 

“Runs don’t matter.”

He lets out a stifled laugh, because _really._

“Okay, so they do matter, but it’s the ones you _get_ that matter. Like your hundred against Pakistan. And the hundred and fifty against New Zealand. The seventy against South Africa, while I was at the other end. The maiden test century against India, and your seventy in the Ashes, against arguably the best pace attack in the world.” 

Jos wraps an arm over the trim waist beside him, breathing slowly evening out as he forces his brain to _listen._

“Form comes and goes. You work for it, you work for it so hard. You’ll get your just deserved. And-” The body beside him tightens momentarily, and Jos lifts his head from its safety net, looking up with wide eyes as a hand brushes his cheekbone. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me. Always. I'm not going anywhere. You have a home here.”

“Even if I’m the reason you lose the series?” He's terrified of the answer. But he needs to ask. 

“Even in the extremely unlikely event that that happened. I’d still be here.” Jos feels a reassuring weight against his head and registers that he’s being held tighter, a chin tucking over his temple, nose nudging at his hair, palm pressing at the dip between his shoulder blades. Comforting weight, a sort of reminder. Maybe a promise.

“Why is this happening to me?”

A breathy sigh, and then “because even people who are incredible, and talented, and amazing, need a bit of help sometimes. You’re allowed to ask for it, Jos. You’re allowed to need it.”

“I’m worried.”

“And that’s okay.”

“I’m scared.”

“You’re allowed to be. But you should know, that you have nothing to be afraid of. I believe in you. I always will. Whether you’re smashing boundaries or being bowled, whether you pick a ball out of the sky or miss a stumping. It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t feel okay.”

“It doesn’t happen overnight Jossa. But you will be. Soon.”

“Are you going to leave now?”

“Do you want me to?”

Jos doesn’t answer. Joe holds him tighter.

“Then I’m staying.”


	13. Calling each other to say they arrived safely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because for these two, home is not a place.  
> I understand this may be repetitive or possibly annoying because I use this trope relentlessly but i give NO FUCKS because they are beautiful and in love and you can't convince me that Joe and Jos don't call each other [when they get] home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my darlings Esha and Peg, who were in desperate need of fluff after I maybe killed all of you with my emotionally intense first chapter of If It's Not Jos... 😅😅😅😅

It’s late, almost three am when Jos finally walks in through the door of his apartment accompanied by Ben, the former absolutely hammered after a night out with The Lads, at Jimmy’s stag-do. (Eoin and Mark- the reasons Ben is _not_ hammered tonight- are waiting in the car while Ben gets his idiot of a best friend home.)

Walks might be a bit of an overstatement actually- because he’s basically bracing all of his weight on Ben. (The taller ginger is actually literally and completely carrying Jos but, the blonde a) will never admit to that and b) will not remember any of this encounter at all anyway, so… ha.)

“Jos- _oof-_ oh my god how does Joe _do this,_ you’re impossible- _fuck me-”_ Ben is strong okay, he is, he can hold up both Mark and Eoin when necessary and is More Than Capable of bench-pressing Jos’ entire bodyweight without a sweat. He’s just not fucking used to the weight squirming around, being uncoordinated, and talking gibberish. Ben braces himself up against the wall and breathes out a sigh, before realising that Jos’ weight has left him and is on course to hit the floor.

And since Ben is a Sensible Human who does not want to be defenestrated by an angry Joe Root (who will definitely call him and ask why Jos has bruises all over his left side- because the captain is a Concerned Friend), he hurriedly amends his mistake and catches the blonde wicketkeeper. And then he rolls his eyes.

“Di’ you jus’ say _Joey?_ ” Jos blinks momentarily, almost half-awake at the mention of his best friend. “Is ‘e ‘ere? I like him so much. He’s comfier than you Benny, he’s m’favourite. You’re too muscly. Bet Mark and Eoin like it though… Joey likes mine too.” It comes out a little dreamy but honestly, it’s adorable and the taller ginger is thanking the stars that he’s the one who gets to see this side of Jos- for blackmail, obviously... (if Jos doesn't admit to things, Ben doesn't either okay?)

“I’m sure he does Jossy.” Suppressing the smile on his face, Ben takes a very deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. “God give me strength,” he pleads, as he slowly moves Jos over to the sofa, setting the blonde down onto it- carefully (he promised Joe), and then collapsing beside him.

Seconds after he’s been set down, Jos is curled around a cushion and out like a light. Ben lets out another non-commital groan because now he’s going to have to carry the keeper all the way into his bedroom, and make him drink some water and take a painkiller, and do all the things he’s supposed to do as a Good Friend. At least he isn’t dealing with Joe tonight, because heaven forbid he ever has to make that boy take an aspirin ever again. How does _Jos_ do it? They’re both impossible, he thinks, grinning to himself.

His phone rings, and despite all his complaining, he’d rather Jos stay asleep- so he answers it as quickly as possible. “Bennnyyyyyyy-”

The taller ginger closes his eyes. “Hi Marky, everything okay?”

“Ben!”

“Hi, baby-”

“Hey, how come he gets to be called baby!?”

“You’re both children,” Ben sighs, fondness creeping into it and he already knows he’s losing this battle. “What do you want, babies?”

While he’s absorbed in conversation, he doesn’t realise that Jos has pulled his own phone from his pocket and has called someone as well. Well, he doesn’t realise until he hears _Joe’s_ phone ringing from the bedroom a few metres away.

_Fuck. Jos specifically asked Ben to make sure, that he under no circumstances, called Joe tonight._

Ben briefly registers that he can _hear Joe's phone ringing,_ which means Joe is currently asleep in Jos' spare bedroom. Or... actually... if he listens closely, in Jos' actual bedroom. 

Before Ben can throw himself at his keeper-friend, the ringtone stops.

Joe has picked up the phone.

Well, _fuck._

“Shit. I’ll be there soon loves, just going to make sure Jos is okay.”

“Oh no. What did you do?”

“I may have been distracted and he may have just called Joey.”

“Oh _shit,_ see you soon, I hope. Joe might kill you… Love you, babe!”

Ben motions to Jos to give him the phone, but the blonde gives him a very unhappy look. The ginger retracts his hand immediately.

_Hello? Joey?_

_Hi Jossy? Are you okay?_ Joe's voice is very tired, and Ben grimaces. 

_Yes! Just… um… decided to call you._ Jos casts a look up at Ben, almost as though he’s unsure of what to say because he’s being watched.

_Oh, okay then. Are you safe? How much did you drink?_

_Not too much, but I’m definitely not sober…_ Jos is laughing as he says it, and Ben is struggling to keep the smile off his face _yet again._ Joe is laughing too, and the expression on Jos’ face is priceless. Ben imagines that's what he himself looks like when Eoin or Mark simply _exist_. Moments later, Joe is walking into the living room with his phone still at his ear, grinning as he takes in the scene.

_I can see that._

Jos gasps, _you can see me!? Do I have my camera on? Oops._

_Hmm. Not exactly, love._

_Joey?_

_Yeah, Jossy?_

_I actually called you to let you know I’m at my place safe. But I couldn’t say it because Ben was sitting right here next to me and he was eeffs- eaffesdr- … hmf. Listening._ Jos is whispering extremely quietly, conspiratorially almost, and he’s holding his hand to the phone, and Joe probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it on the phone, but since he’s standing a foot away, it’s crystal clear.

_That’s okay, I’m glad you called me to let me know. I’m glad you’re home._

_Not home yet Joey._

_Oh. I thought you were?_ Ben and Joe both have slightly confused expressions, but neither of them were ready for-

 _Home is with you Joey. You're not here are you? I am talking to you on the phone after all._ Joe is about to have a heart attack, and Ben has his face in his hands trying to stop himself from fucking _screaming_ because what type of utter nonsensical fucking bullshit is this _. Joey? Are you still there?_

_Yeah, love. I'm right here. Just give me a minute hm? I have to put the phone down for a second._

_Okay!_

Jos is holding the phone to his chest and Joe... well, he's just. Trying his very best to Remain Calm. He disconnects the call and hurries over to Ben and gives the ginger a quick hug. “Thanks for getting him home Ben.”

“Y-yeah. Of course.” The all-rounder’s voice is a little thick, but Joe supposes it’s the alcohol.

“Tell Marky and Moggy I say hi!” Joe turns around, expecting Ben to see himself out. The man is having a little trouble functioning though, and he hopes Joe doesn’t mind if he just stands at the door for a minute.

Joe walks over to Jos, and shakes his shoulder a little, whispering a soft _“hey.”_

The way the wicketkeeper’s expression changes, is another thing that Ben was absolutely not prepared for. “Joey! Now I’m home safe!” Jos pulls Joe into his arms, and they both tumble into the sofa messily, laughing and acting like absolute children.

“Yeah. You are. Thank you for calling me to tell me.”

Jos smiles and seems very pleased to hear that Joe is happy. Ben is in the corner having a fucking _meltdown._ “Missed you today Joey, I hope you had fun with Ali, and Finny and… the others!”

“I did have fun, thank you, love,” Joe responds, popping an aspirin from its packet and reaching over for a bottle of water that’s resting on the coffee table. Jos pouts, and Joe’s heart stops momentarily. “Everything okay, Jossy?”

“You didn’t miss me?”

Ben is fucking struggling and he’s struggling so fucking bad it’s _insane._

“Oh, baby. Of course, I missed you." The younger bundles Jos into his arms and places an almost missable kiss to the top of his head. "Don't tell Steve but you’re much more fun to do manicures with,” Joe adds with a wink, and then Jos is grinning again they’re both laughing _again_ and Ben is in absolute hysterics because _how, how the fuck, how in the ever-living name of fuck._ “Ready for bed Jossy?”

“Mhm. But I didn’t say thank you to Ben…”

“That’s okay Jos, I’ll help you get home anytime.”

Joe turns around, completely unaware that Ben was still present- _too focused on the ray of sunshine on his couch,_ and gives the taller ginger a brilliant smile, which is mirrored by the blonde keeper. Ben chokes back tears and leaves, closing the door behind him and exhaling intensely.

_Wow._


	14. Doing each other’s dishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you're just not in the headspace to stand at your sink and clean plates for an hour. And sometimes, your best friend is intuitive enough to know.

Joe is exhausted.

He’s practically dead on his feet, and he wants to go to bed so bad, but he’s dreading going back to his apartment.

The test captain is tossing up the idea of driving all the way to Manchester to crash at Jos’ place instead- because really, he just wants to go _home._

 _Home,_ where there aren’t dishes piled up ceiling high. And home where the bedsheets have already been changed. And home where there’s someone who will invite him in and give him a fucking hug because he just needs it so bad.

But it’s already eight, and Joe doesn’t have the energy to drive himself all the way to Manchester, and he’s pretty sure that Jos was having someone over to stay anyway, so he wouldn’t exactly be jumping at the chance to have Joe crash at his place for no good reason.

He sighs, dropping his kit into the boot of his car and slipping into the driver’s seat, resting his skull against the headrest, and letting his eyes slip shut momentarily. He’s so fucking tired, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with this shit.

He doesn’t think about how if Jos was here, and not entertaining someone at home, that the wicketkeeper would have carried his kit for him, carefully placed it into his BMW, opened the door for Joe, and let him fall asleep against the window while he drove them home, with their playlist softly flowing through the speakers. Or how Jos would pick him up from the car and drop him onto the sofa. But not really drop him. More like lay him down and cover him with a blanket, and then, only then, go back for their kits and bags. Joe doesn’t think about it at all.

He shakes himself out of it and slowly shifts the gear to drive himself back to his apartment. It hasn’t been that bad of a day- but he’s just exhausted. And if he really thinks about it (see: admits it to himself), he just misses _Jos._ Like... a lot.

But he’s strictly _not_ thinking about that. Before he knows it, he’s pulled into his driveway. He’s deep in thought (he hasn’t seen his best friend in a _week_ okay? It hurts), but not absorbed enough to miss that his kitchen lights are on. Letting out a soft groan at how many years he’s just removed from Earth’s lifespan, he drags himself out of the car, heaves the boot open and pulls his kit through the door. Somehow, he doesn’t notice the extra pair of New Balance shoes lying beside a kitbag that doesn’t _belong to him_ as he collapses into the sofa.

He doesn’t even notice how there’s a mug of Yorkshire tea placed in front of him on the coffee table, still hot, and steaming.

Joe tugs himself into the bedroom, and on autopilot, shrugs off his clothes, slipping on whatever’s left on the bed- clothes which happen to belong to a blonde _wicketkeeper._ He trudges back into the living room and deflates back into the sofa, allowing himself a few moments of peace.

He still hasn’t noticed Jos, who’s leaning against the kitchen island, with a concerned, but always incredibly endeared expression on his face, as he watches Joe as the younger falls asleep on the couch. He’s in two minds, as to whether he should go and tuck the younger into bed, or wake him up and try to get him to eat.

The decision is made for him though, because Joe sits up a few minutes later, rubbing at his eyes with fists covered in Jos’ hoodie.

When the younger finally decides that he’s going to enter the hell that is his kitchen, he _does_ notice, that someone’s done his dishes. The sink is _empty._ Everything has been put back in its place. Cups placed in the cabinet above the stove, plates resting in the drawer just next to the dishwasher, cutlery in their little compartments, and bowls stacked in the cupboard beside the fridge. There’s even a bouquet of flowers- _white roses_ sitting in the centre of his kitchen counter.

Joe’s too tired to come up with an explanation for this. But when the scent of old spice flutters into his nose, he knows what’s going on.

He turns around and throws himself in the general direction of the scent, trusting that he’ll be caught. And when Jos’ arms wrap comfortably around his waist, Joe thinks he could cry in relief.

“How did you _know?”_

_“Because even people who are incredible and talented, and amazing, need a bit of help sometimes.”_

Joe’s voice breaks. “But you had guests-”

“But I told them to go home.”

“But you hate doing dishes-”

“But you’re my best friend.”

“So you broke into my apartment and took on the role of a kitchen hand?”

“I have a key! But yes. I also changed your bedsheets. And did your laundry. And brought dinner.”

The keeper has a relieved smile on his face, and he looks so beautiful, and Joe is struggling because _how-_

_“How are you not married?”_

“Funny that my husband is the one saying that.”

“You’re not the trophy wife Jos, shut up.”

“I literally did the dishes, and have been cleaning your apartment all day-”

“All day!?”

“Well, when I called you this afternoon, you sounded dead on your feet. So I got here just after lunch and happened to realise why-” Joe levels his best friend with a glare, prompting a beautiful laugh from the wicketkeeper- _whose arms he’s still being held in. “_ And I knew I hadn’t seen you in a few days, and, yeah. I just wanted to make sure for myself that you were okay.”

“I told you I was fine on the phone.”

“And I didn’t believe you. Not from the moment you opened your mouth. Why didn’t you call me earlier Joey?”

“You were busy-”

“And since when has that ever stopped me?”

“You hate doing dishes-”

“You know I’d do them for you.”

Joe clutches at Jos’ shirt tighter, and the keeper pulls him in closer. “Thank you.” Jos’ hands flutter through his hair and Joe will his body to relax, because he’s _home,_ so will it just please. Slowly, his muscles relax. “I was so tired, I’m still so tired. I was dreading coming here today, I was half convincing myself to drive up to yours-”

“Ours-” Jos realises what he’s just done, but thankfully Joe seems too frazzled with his own explanation to have noticed.

“But it was already so late, and I just missed you-”

“Oh.”

“Is that-”

“I missed you too.”

Joe breathes out a sigh, his body finally loosening up completely as Jos braces his weight with open arms. “Are you staying?”

“Brought my kit and all, if you’ll have me?”

“You’re coming back to training?”

“If the skipper says it’s alright?”

“Don’t leave for that long again.”

Jos isn’t sure whether this classifies as something a best friend would say, but they’ve never really known any different. “I won’t.”

“Thank you for doing the dishes.”

“I only do them for you.”

“I know.”

Joe tucks himself tighter against Jos’ frame, as the keeper nudges his nose against the younger boy’s hair. And before Joe even came back, the keeper knew. While he was pre-rinsing plates and loading bowls into the dishwasher, that he’d do it for his best friend every day if he had to if it could ease some weight off his shoulders.

Every. Single. Day. 


	15. Allowing interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, video games aren't the things that need your focus. (And sometimes you definitely cop shit for it from the boys...) But it's worth it.  
> also, this chapter is for @Peggo, who said the most accurate thing about me that I've ever heard   
> "zee : they need to get their shit together, also zee : let me just write another fic of them being fools"  
> love you babes, this is for you, our fools in love... (fucking idiots, get your shit together please xx)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea from the TikTok trend- and i KNOW, they're not "boyfriends" just yet (bullshit, i don't buy it Joseph...), but, CONVINCE ME JOS DOESN'T DO THIS. yes this entire series is just an excuse for me to write short disgustingly cute scenes of a couple of boys in love, don't be mad <3  
> also, Jase posted a photo of the scores on his story, with the caption "some help please @jofraarcher" and i already KNEW i had to write it, because jos had a wonderful 4 kills to his name, whereas Jase had 13-  
> surely he was distracted, and surely he allowed it...

“Mo! On your left!”

“SHIT, oh fuck me-”

“Mo are you literally kidding me- we had a _plan_ guys-”

“Jos!?”

"Buttler I swear to fuck-"

Jos does _not_ answer. Momentarily. It’s actually for a few more moments than he realises, but then again, you can’t blame him.

“I swear if I die because of your stupidity-”

“Calm yourself Jase, I’m right here.”

“JOS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?”

“Shhhhhh stop yelling Jof!”

“JOS-”

“Did I not just tell you to shut up!” Jos is whisper-yelling across the mic and Jof sighs exasperatedly as he does indeed, shut up.

Jos sighs, before softly uttering a “sorry Jof, just, stop yelling please, I can hear you outside my headset.”

“And why would that be a problem?”

The keeper can hear Mo snickering and Jase absolutely losing his fucking mind, cackling over the line, and he smiles softly as he registers the sound. The opener has been sounding better, much happier, ever since he moved into Sam’s room. Jos makes it a point to ask his friend about the developments there- just as soon as he gets out of his current predicament. He’s on call with Mo, Jase and Jof, playing Call of Duty- and he’s currently in a Spicy Situation. It’s not exactly his fault though, he’s a little preoccupied with other things that are going on.

He already knows he’s going to cop it from Jase on Instagram tonight, and maybe even Jof at this point- although the pace bowler can’t really talk, he hasn’t scored all that well himself. They were amidst a quite _intense_ moment in the game, when Jos’ attention was taken away from the killing and stabbing and whatever other violent things this game entails, towards… well… the exact epitome of _not_ that.

“Jos literally what the hell just happened?”

“You were actually frozen for like, four whole minutes-”

“Aw lay off guys, bad connection, you know what it’s like, sometimes it crawls into your lap and kills you on the spot, you know.”

Jos sighs, as he envisions (he can hear it, no matter what anyone says, he can _hear_ it) Jase’s smirk.

“Shut up Jase. Don’t make me come over there.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got your hands full Jos.”

“I have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh, alright mate.”

“As if you’re not being hypocritical, you’ve got connection issues of your own.”

“HEY!” That. Was not Jase. “He doesn’t have connection issues Jos. Shut up. I’m not his _best friend.”_

“Hi Sam, how are you?” The keeper’s voice has taken an edge, and Mo is oooooh-ing into the mic like a child.

“Ah _fuck.”_ That was definitely Jase.

“Jos we’re kicking you from the server- and I’m kicking you out too Jase.”

“I LITERALLY HAD THE MOST KILLS!”

“Shhhh, _stop fucking yelling._ I’ll see myself out, I can’t take all your noise anyway.”

“Jos are you actually serious-”

“Fuck off you were yelling just as loud-”

“No one is buying your shit Jos, go deal with Joey-”

“Why is this coming back to me and my best friend, Joe has his own room-”

“No one said he was staying with you Jos, something you want to tell us?”

“Okay fuck all of you-”

“Love you too mate.”

The last thing he hears is "if my girlfriend ever came and sat on my lap while I was gaming, I'd throw her off me, Jos is fucking _whipped-"_

Jos rolls his eyes as he disconnects from the server, sitting back against the armchair as he wraps his arms tighter around the reason he’s been banned from COD tonight. (No matter what Jof is implying, Joe is not Jos' boyfriend- and Jos would never ever throw Joe off him, ever. Both of those statements are 100% factual. Definitely.) Here’s how it happened.

-

“Mo! On your left!”

“SHIT, oh fuck me-”

A small bundle of blonde fluff has made his way into Jos’ room, and is closing the door quietly. The keeper is a little too absorbed in his game to notice, but Joe can see the way his best friend’s body reacts to his presence. Jos’ shoulders loosen, and his jaw unclenches, and the keeper runs a hand back through his hair contently, as he melts back into the chair comfortably. That’s enough of an invite for Joe. He walks over, and lifts the older blonde’s arms up (along with the controller), as he crawls into Jos’ arms, curling tightly into his lap.

The keeper pushes his headset back off one of his ears, and settles his arms comfortably around Joe, as the younger pushes his face against the muscle of Jos’ chest- and _breathes._

_There's a very very small affirming press of lips at his heart, accompanied by another deep breath as the batsman's body slowly unclenches._

Jos lets a smile grace his face as he closes his eyes and nudges his nose against Joe’s temple.

“Mo are you literally kidding me- we had a _plan_ guys-”

“Jos!?”

Jos has stopped listening. He’s still playing, fingers moving over the controller on autopilot. Still present, but he’s not exactly _focusing._ He hooks his chin over the blonde hair that’s brushing his neck and squeezes the younger boy tightly.

“Buttler I swear to fuck-”

-

“Hi Joey...”

“Hey.”

“Are you alrigh-”

“Did I make you lose your game?”

“That’s not important. What’s happened? Are you okay?”

“Just, saw a photo. Of something. I didn’t like it. Needed a hug. Sorry I-”

“Hush.” Jos carefully places his hand around the back of Joe’s neck, running it smoothly down the expanse of his back, fingertips brushing the material of his shirt softly. “You can always have one of those.”

“Is Jase mad?”

“Nah. He gets it.”

Joe doesn’t seem settled by this, and Jos can feel it.

“I can assure you, he's not. And even if he was, I wouldn’t care. I’d never-” Joe tucks himself tighter around Jos, and the keeper brushes a hand through the grown-out strands once again. “It wouldn’t matter. You can interrupt any game of mine. Especially if it’s for a hug. Always. What did you see?”

“It was a photo of you. Someone else and you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m here though.”

Joe’s fingers grip at his shirt tensely, and Jos creases his forehead in worry. “Yeah. You are.”

“Right here, Joey.”

They stay like that, curled up on their armchair. Jos does not go back to Call of Duty. He does, however, pick up his phone when he gets a notification that Jase has posted on his story.

Yeah, his score is abysmal- and he probably owes Jase a beer now (if only so that they can have a conversation about Sam…), but Joe looks significantly less worried than he did when he first came in. And if the price for that was 3 (or 10) extra kills on a video game, well, Jos will pay it any day. 


	16. Absentminded acts of intimacy (and some exasperated best friends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you don't realise how easily you fit into someone else's life, and your best friends do, and they talk about it. Because they need to complain. Because you're oblivious as fuck. 
> 
> For my darling dear Peg <3 I hope you enjoy this  
> And I hope you like the addition of ChrisJo and Ben, because I miss the exasperated best friends :') <3 Love you darling <3

“Hey Ben?”

“Yeah Jonny, what’s up?” The ginger keeper is currently laying down on one of the couches with Chris in his arms, as they facetime Ben, who’s back in New Zealand.

“Have you ever noticed that Joe and Jos are always… _intimate?”_

Ben chokes on his own breath. “What the _fuck_ are you on about?”

Chris is chuckling softly, while his boyfriend smiles down at him- completely and utterly endeared. The other all-rounder rolls his eyes and sends a message to his chat with his boyfriends, along the lines of; ‘I miss you idiots. When I get back, we’re not leaving the bedroom for a week.’

“Have you never noticed?” Chris pushes. 

“Joey... well... he tends to be, uh, quite loud… So, I’m sure if he was _intimate_ with Jos, we’d be hearing the man’s name on repeat. For hours. And we aren't at that stage yet so-”

Jonny combusts into laughter, and gets a very similar look of adoration back from Chris, who also leans up to place a kiss to his wicketkeeper’s cheek, and then apologises to Ben for his ‘utterly grotesque PDA’.

“That’s not what I meant Benny. Thinking about your boyfriends, are you? Projecting maybe?”

“Shut up. What did you mean then?”

“I mean like, just, they’re always _touching._ Or like, holding each other. I don’t really know how to describe it?”

Ben still looks lost, so Chris steps in. “Let me give you a few examples, that should assist.”

-

1.

“Do you want some Joey?” They’re all sitting around the dining table in the common room, chatting and eating, some face-timing family back home and others just relaxing after a day of training.

“Ooooh, what is it!? It smells really good.” Joe interrupts his call with his parents at the sound of Jos’ voice, leaning his face off-camera to peer at the glass in the keeper’s hand.

“Mango panna cotta, Jonny said it’s to die for.”

“Mmm please?”

“Knew you’d say yes, here,” Jos grins, holding out a delicately scooped spoonful (with a perfect ratio of mango and cream), which Joe promptly takes into his mouth, not moving either of his hands from the tablet he’s using to talk to his parents.

“Thank you Jossy, you’re a peach.”

The keeper rolls his eyes and flicks the youngers forehead softly before heading back to his fellow wicketkeeper, who is watching on in awe. 

2.

“Ready to go to the next bubble, Joey?”

“Yeah, just making sure I haven’t forgotten anything, Chris is coming with us right?”

“Yep, he’s at the door already.”

“Oh shit, okay, let’s go. Am I late? Sorry Chris!”

There's a melodious laugh from the Brummie, while the keeper grins and shakes his head. “No hon, Chris is just a bit eager.”

Joe creases an eyebrow in confusion.

Jos waits for the realisation to hit.

“OH. _JONNY!_ Of course. Come on then, we have to hurry!”

“I’ve already loaded your bags into my car.”

“So what are you back here for?”

“The most important piece of luggage!”

“I KNEW I’D FORGOTTEN SOMETHING! WHICH BAG IS IT!”

“You’re an idiot Joey,” Jos grins, and the younger blonde pouts unhappily. Within milliseconds he’s lifted off his feet, prompting a shriek that he will deny later. (Although, Chris probably heard it from the doorway, so…) “I obviously meant you!”

Jos carries him all the way to the car- just because he can. Joe’s exhausted from captaining and is more than content to be given a lift. Joe doesn’t notice Chris taking photos of them and sending them to his own wicketkeeper.

3.

“Joe! It’s time for dinner what are-”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Jonny! Stop being so loud!” Someone whisper-yells.

Jonny squints in confusion. That wasn’t Joe. He walks further into the hotel room, only to find Jos rummaging- albeit very quietly- through one of the storage cupboards.

“What are you doing!?”

“Trying to find blankets. Duh.”

“Uh, you’re stealing blankets from Joey’s room?”

Jos gives him an extremely unimpressed look, that’s equal parts ‘are you actually kidding me’ and ‘do you know who the fuck I am’. The blonde keeper rolls his eyes as he finally pulls out a thick quilt that is to his liking. He walks over to the sofa, and delicately throws it over… _Joe?_

“What-”

“SHHHHHH.”

The Yorkie rolls his eyes and comically lowers his voice. “It’s dinner, he’s going to miss food-”

Jos gives him another look, which convinces Jonny to shut up. “I already went downstairs and brought him back a plate. He’s eaten. He was exhausted.” The keeper runs a hand through the younger blonde’s hair, as Joe stirs. “I’m just going to dinner, Joey. Is that okay?”

“Are you coming back?”

“Of course, you already gave me your spare key remember?”

“Mmm, see you soon, come back quickly. I need my space heater.”

Joe’s fingers clutch softly at Jos’ palm, and Jos’ digits brush Joe’s wrist. Jonny blinks in… shock? Confusion? It’s so… _softly intimate._ It reminds him so much of his boyfriend.

4.

Chris is about to actually trip over his own feet, because _what in god’s name are they doing!?_

It is definitely against regulation, and they really shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing out in the middle of the field like this, especially not with all the restrictions in place. It is COVID times, after all. 

He can see Stuart facepalming as the bowler takes in the sight himself. Broady seems much more used to it though, as he just nudges Jimmy- who also rolls his eyes. 

Joe’s got one of Jos’ keeping gloves on. In the fucking centre of the pitch. When they’ve been strictly told not to touch, not to share equipment, and not to do, _exactly whatever the hell it is that they are doing._

Jos is talking about the weight and shape of the glove, showing Joe how to position his hands while wearing them, but Chris can’t get past the fact that Jos has allowed Joe to touch, not just touch but _wear,_ some of his cricket apparel.

“Is this, normal?” Bessie asks, and Chris is glad that someone else is as amused as he is. 

“Jos is quite protective of his gear isn’t he?” The Brummie adds. 

Stuart scoffs a laugh. “Jos is quite protective of Joe too, isn’t he?”

5.

“Hi Jonny, hi Chris!” Joe bounces into the couple’s room, holding a beautifully wrapped box out to them. “Happy anniversary!” The test captain has his usual sunshine smile and looks so happy that it’s infectious.

The Brummie grins, accepting the box as he invites Joe in, after a very tight hug. “How have you guys been? I’ve missed you both, it’s nice to see you in person, rather than over a screen.”

Jos, who’s already arrived and is chatting to Morgs, smiles as Joe walks over to him. The wicketkeeper reaches over, handing Joe his glass of rum and coke, and takes the younger blonde’s jacket off him, very carefully placing it on the coat rack. They haven’t even said hello to each other, but somehow, they seem more introduced than any of the other people who’ve been here for almost half an hour.

Joe sips from the glass- _reminder, it's Jos' glass-_ and immediately immerses himself in conversation with the limited-overs captain, as Jos hooks an arm around his waist. Chris and Jonny watch in disbelief.

-

“Are you seriously telling me these idiots were sharing equipment on the fucking pitch.”

Chris nods, utterly exasperated.

“And Jos picked him up and carried him all the way to the car?”

“Yep.”

“And he brought Joe a plate of food, and they swapped room keys.”

“Yes Benjamin.”

"Joe was playing with Jos' fingers..."

"Oui." 

Jonny huffs out a laugh at his boyfriend's use of French. 

“Christ. How obvious do they want to be?”

“I still don’t know how they’re not together.”

They chat for a little while longer, before it’s late enough that Ben needs to get to bed. “Keep me updated, and please for the love of god let them be together the next time we call, I don't know how much more of this I can take.”


	17. Their friendly competitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, competitions aren't really about winning.   
> I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH CONTENT THIS MORNING AND WHEN I TELL YOU I ALMOST CRIED I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. SO I WROTE THIS WITHIN TWO HOURS BECAUSE I WAS INSPIRED AND BECAUSE MY BABIES ARE IN LOVE THANK YOU GOODBYE https://www.instagram.com/p/CFKZF1Dp6t-/

“Hey, Chris?”

“Yeah, Joey what’s up?”

“Can you take some photos for me?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, of what?”

“Jos and me?”

“Do you want to like, pose, I should probably get Jonny for this actually, he’s more qualified-”

“No just candid should be good.”

Chris looks at Joe in confusion. “Erm, okay, can I just ask why?”

“I need to get back at someone.”

This explanation clearly does not help, and Chris the poor thing still looks utterly confused, but does as he’s told anyway. “You… alright, you got it skip,” he mutters, as Joe gives him a thankful smile and then runs back to his best friend. 

Jofra, Jase, Foakesy and Rashid all watch in amusement as Joe and Jos tug at each other’s shirts, chasing each other around Old Trafford during their final training session before the last ODI of their summer.

Both blondes look blissfully happy, grinning and smiling and falling all over the place as if they aren’t in the middle of some pretty serious training.

No one really seems to be too worried about reprimanding them though, and they look too happy to disturb. Chris focuses the camera on them, but the moment doesn’t exactly look right just yet.

Joe’s head is thrown back as he laughs unabashedly and Jos’ smile is so goddamn bright, and it just looks so easy- Chris almost wants to throw himself out a window. Even Jof begrudgingly rolls his eyes and smiles at the two boys. Chris watches as Mark heads over and nudges the young bowler’s shoulder with a knowing grin. “They’re infectious. Being around them makes you want a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or something. I don’t discriminate.”

The new-ball-pair watch as Joe and Jos chase each other around, and are reminded of how this always seems to happen, whether they’re playing a warm up match of footy, where it becomes ‘I CAN SCORE MORE GOALS THAN YOU JOEY!’ and ‘YOU’RE ON BUTTLER!’ or whether it’s running back inside after an innings break, when the contest is ‘I CAN PAD UP FASTER THAN YOU CAN?’ and ‘I DON’T NEED TO BAT UNTIL THREE PLACES AFTER YOU!’ which is followed by ‘SCARED TO LOSE?’ and ‘IN YOUR DREAMS JOEY!’

And lo-and-behold, the predictability of the two is never lost on anyone who’s been around them for more than a week, because as soon as they’re told to line up for a sprints burst, Joe’s already taken off, screaming, _very loudly,_ “Catch me if you can Jos!”

“HEY THAT’S NOT FAIR!” The keeper yells back, bursting forward and bolting toward the other end of the pitch. Joe- and everyone else around- is very aware that Jos is one of the fastest between wickets, only really done over by Jonny or Jase who are basically superhuman at it.

Joe’s content to lose against him, already looking over at the blonde keeper with a grin on his face, content to watch as Jos powers down the pitch, face determined but still smiling like nothing in the world could make him feel anything less than _happy._ Without even registering it, Chris snaps almost fifteen photos, it’s just pure perfection.

Joe’s eyes trained on Jos, and the keeper mid stride as he overtakes his best friend. Even though there are some boys present in the background, laughing and grinning at the pair, it’s impossible to focus on anything but the way Joe and Jos seem so content in the frame together.

It’s a still a competition, but it doesn’t seem like they’re playing for money, or playing for bragging rights, or for bets. Chris can’t really place it, but it’s almost, as though they’re competing to put a smile on the other’s face.

The all-rounder blinks in realisation as he scrolls back through the photos he’s taken. He’s distracted from his thoughts by a sharp “I WIN!” from none other than Joseph Charles Buttler, and then a shriek from a blonde test captain who jumps onto the keeper’s back.

“Damn you!”

Jos is laughing again and Joe is grinning and oh god they’re so happy it makes Chris’ heart hurt. He’s not about to disrupt the moment, so he tucks Joe’s phone back into his kitbag, and heads back to Jonny.

-

Later, when Joe’s sitting beside Jos on the couch after dinner, Chris decides to ask the question that’s been on his mind almost all day.

“Hey, Josephs?”

The keeper does actually tear his eye away from his phone, and from Joe- who he’s in animated conversation with- to respond to Chris.

“Yes, Woakesy?”

“Why do you two compete so much?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, today, with the sprints. And last week, with the goals? And the running up the stairs. And the-”

“OH!”

“You wanna tell him then?” Jos laughs as Joe perks up in excitement.

“Whoever wins gets to pick their spot.”

"Joey that probably doesn't tell them anything," the keeper chuckles, and Joe pouts.

“Jos is right. I have no idea what you're talking about...” 

“Whoever wins the contest, gets to pick whether they’re cuddled, or doing said cuddling,” the older blonde explains.

“You mean-” The Brummie squints in disbelief, and blinks, flicking his eyes between both blondes. “You mean you’re competing to decide how you’re going to _spoon?!”_

Joe considers it for a moment and then nods, and Jos is looking at Chris as though _he’s_ the one that’s lost his mind. “Is that, like, not okay?”

“No, no, just, very sweet. That’s all.” The all-rounder masks his shock with a topic-change, and a glance to his boyfriend, who looks equally staggered and speechless. “Did Joey show you the photos I took?”

“Yes! He’s just posted one of them, you’re pretty talented Chris, they’re lovely. I love how Joey’s mid-air, _and_ how I’m clearly winning.” The keeper finishes with a wink and is subsequently punched (lightly) in the shoulder by Joe.

“So then?”

“Hmmm. Come here.” Jos says, holding his arms out.

Joe crawls into his _‘best friend’s’_ space, content to be held. “Mmmm. The best best friend _ever._ Get you a man." 

Chris remains utterly flabbergasted, trying to make sense of whatever in the hell has just happened right in front of his eyes.

When he logs onto Instagram and sees which photo Joe’s picked to post, and he almost falls off his chair. Because Joe’s picked the most intimate snap that he’s taken, and the comments aren’t helping either.

 **root66** Catch me if you can @josbuttler 💨

 **stuartbroad8** Not sure he’d have too much trouble… 🏃‍♂️

 **josbuttler** @stuartbroad8 Looks like I’d already caught him

The allrounder facepalms, as Jonny pats his back consolingly, in solidarity. Because honestly. What in the _fuck._


	18. Family Dinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because who else do you bring to /family dinners/ but your husband- I mean best friend...
> 
> Thank you to my darling Pegs, who has allowed me to use her idea, because I think this is absolutely necessary and adorable and it's a bit like a character study, but it was adorable and I just really wanted to write this and sometimes you gotta give yourself what you want yk <3 hope you enjoy 🥰🥺  
> The little bit about Jos reversing the car is a little bit from @HeidiJames28's fic where she's described Jos as having 'hot dad energy' - or something to that effect. It was too perfect not to add in...

“JOEY!”

“JOOOE!”

“Christ Jos will you shut up some of us are trying not to have our eardrums exploded.”

“Sorry Jonny, but where’s your fellow Yorkie, I need to ask him something.”

The ginger keeper gasps in excitement. “Is it- Are you finally going to- OH MY GOD. CHRIS! CHRIS GET IN HERE!”

Jos covers his ears at the sheer volume of Jonny’s voice, and Chris comes bashing into the common room, “WHAT IS IT WHAT’S HAPPENED. HI JOS!”

“Hey, Chris. I was just looking for Joey.”

“JOS WANTED TO ASK HIM SOMETHING!”

“OH. MY. GOD. HAVE YOU TALKED TO YOUR PARENTS ABOUT IT?”

“Uh, yes. But why-”

“OH MY GOD JONNY IT'S HAPPENING ITS FINALLY HAPPENING-”

“What in hell’s name are you talking about?”

“You’re finally gonna ask Joey to-”

“WHAT ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE FOR!?”

“Chris. I cannot find my best friend, to ask him what I was going to ask him. I asked if you’ve seen him, I did _not_ ask for all this noise.”

The Brummie doesn’t look chastised in the slightest. In actuality, he seems quite content with himself. Jonny is only staring endearingly at his boyfriend, and Jos has to smile because there’s really nothing new there. 

Seconds later, Joe is strolling into the area, and once he sees Jos, whatever he actually came in here for is really, extremely unimportant. “Jossy!”

“Joey! I’ve been looking for you!”

“I’ve been looking for you too!? But I assumed you were in the gym…”

“I was, and I assumed you were at a meeting.”

“I was.”

There’s a moment where the two are just _looking_ at each other before Jonny says “so do you two just like, know each other’s schedules or like?”

“Sort of?”

“I mean, yeah, probably. Which is what I had to ask you, Joey, family lunch has been moved to tea on Saturday instead, I know we were supposed to be having dinner with your parents but-”

“My mum said that Saturday dinner has been moved to Sunday afternoon! I was wondering if you’d still come with-”

“Of course! I’ll just switch the outfits around, I think you said the white for lunch right?”

"And I’ll wear the light blue in the afternoon and then the navy one in the evening.”

“Mmm I love that shirt.”

“Yeah Jossy I know you do. Your white one is a favourite of mine too...”

Chris and Jonny are both going to have a heart attack.

“WAIT A DAMN MINUTE.”

Both Josephs jolt at the realisation that someone is still in the room with them, and it’s not just the two of them (as is so often the case in their minds).

“Erm, yes?”

“Have we done something wrong?”

“YOU’RE GOING TO EACH OTHER’S FAMILY DINNERS?”

“Uhhhhh-”

“Joe always comes to family dinner? Like every few months? It’s just been a while since the world cup and then the whole coronavirus thing so... yeah.”

"And Jos goes to your place? Regularly?"

“Jos and my mum trade salmon recipes all the time...?”

“Oh my fucking god-”

“I cannot fucking believe this-”

Both Josephs completely ignore them. 

“So Joey, is that okay?”

“Of course, Jossy, will you pick me up?”

“Absolutely, I love driving with you. Will you stay over?”

“WHAT KIND OF-”

“Of course I’ll stay over!? Should I bring your parents a Bordeaux red, goes with steak?”

“And I’ll bring yours a Somerset cider, goes well with fish?”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S ON THE MENU?!”

“Uh, we help cook?”

“I-”

“Do you people not help your mothers?” Joe says, as he takes Jos' hand and pulls him away. 

“Jonny, babe. What the fuck just happened?”

-

“Thank you for picking me up Jossy,” Joe smiles as the keeper takes the duffle bag from his hands before he slips into the car.

Jos is extremely glad he parked his BMW, because if he hadn’t, he would have crashed the car with how fucking gorgeous Joe looks.

He places the bag in the boot, closing it with a fond grin as he heads back to the driver’s seat. Joe’s already plugged his phone in and is sifting through tracks on Spotify, and he’s slipped his shoes off and has made himself at home in the passenger seat. Jos cracks the joints in his fingers, letting out a very soft moan of satisfaction.

Joe chances a side glimpse, as Jos puts a hand behind his seat to reverse out of the driveway. The younger blonde does NOT shiver at the sight of the keeper’s tensed bicep. He does look at it for a moment though, and then says “been in the gym recently?”

Jos rolls his eyes. “Joey, I was literally in the gym the day we had the conversation about this dinner thing…”

“Mmmm. It’s working.”

The keeper flushes very slightly, shaking his head and focusing on the drive up to his parent’s place, as Arctic Monkeys flows through the speakers.

-

“JOS!”

“JOCO!”

Jos’ sister opens the door and almost immediately throws herself into the keeper’s embrace. Joe has never ever related to a feeling more than that in his entire life. He stands just to the right of his best friend, clutching a bottle of wine and a small box (that holds a small set of earrings) as the siblings share a hug.

“JOEY!”

Joe grins and suddenly, he’s got an armful of his second favourite Buttler. “Hi, Jo! How have you been? These are for you,” he says, handing her the small box. “Jos helped me pick them out.”

“You- Jos- God we’ve missed you.” She tugs both of them back into a hug, and it’s so wonderful to feel like part of another family. “It’s so good to have you, come in! Mum’s already started marinating steak.”

The test captain grins as he walks into the kitchen, shaking hands with Jos’ father and embracing the keeper’s mother as he hands her the bottle- receiving a loving smile in return. He grins to himself as he washes his hands and gets set on starting up the barbecue with John.

It’s a beautiful evening, the sun already set and the air still warm but with a soft breeze making a welcome appearance. Jos brings out a few glasses, as drinks are poured and the conversation is easy and Joe finds himself slipping into his Sheffield accent more and more, as he talks to Jo about her husband and kids, unable to keep from smiling as she shows him pictures. Soon enough, Jos’ brother arrives and there’s soccer being played in the space of the backyard- unfortunately, Jos is still the best at that, much to everyone’s exasperation.

“Damn you, Joseph,” Joe grins, punching his best friend’s shoulder before he’s crushed into a hug- which he is really not trying hard enough to get out of. Jos' arms feel good around him, and the keeper's never been shy of his affections for him anyway. 

“Yes, damn me indeed.”

Joe can only roll his eyes and tip his head back against the keeper’s shoulder. Everyone’s laughing, and drinking and eating and the food is always good when they make it together, and Joe looks so at ease with his family that Jos is struggling to keep himself together.

As Joe, Jimmy and John start taking plates back into the kitchen to wash up, Jo and Patricia grab one of Jos’ arms each and pull him to the side.

“Jos.”

“Yes, mum?”

“Did you… did you say _best friends?”_

“Yes.”

_“Fucking best friends?”_

“No! God no. We aren’t fucking…” Jos says, almost with a sigh. The two most important women in his life are looking at him like he’s grown an extra head, and Jos is confused. "Why are you both looking at me like that?"

“He’s staying the night?”

“Yeah, with me, in my room.”

“And- and you’re going to just, let him?”

“We room together all the time?”

“But like, in separate beds?”

“Uhhh… Maybe not always?”

"Jos did you like, propose without telling me!?"

"I literally just said to you he is my best frie-"

“Fucking best friends, I’m actually going to-”

“We’re not fucking! He's my-”

Jo facepalms and his mum actually looks concerned for him. “Okay love. Just know we accept you either way-”

“Mum, I’ve had boyfriends before.”

“Yes, Jos darling, just making sure,” his mother affirms before she walks into the house (with a kiss to his cheek).

“Do you need to yell some more or can I go back to my Joey now Joco-”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME-”

Jos bursts out laughing and peeps into the house, where Jimmy and Joe are chatting about FIFA while doing the dishes, and his dad is chatting with his mum about ‘you’re seriously telling me they’re _friends!?’_ and his sister is shaking her head in desperation and he can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. The fact that he gets to do this again, tomorrow, with Joe's family, makes him that much happier. (He didn't think it was possible, but, it's Joe, so...)


	19. Feeling each other's pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, when things happen to the ones you love, you can feel them too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my darling wife <3   
> I hope this is what you wanted 🥺🥰  
> I love you <3

Jos, when he was a little younger, would always end up with bruising on his shins and thighs. Sometimes after he’d been at cricket training, sometimes after football in the garden with his brother, and sometimes they’d just randomly show up out of nowhere, prompting questions from his mother about “what are you doing that’s hurting you so badly, there isn’t even anything here that could do this to you!?” as she’d apply salves and relaxants to the areas that he’d complain about.

He swore they were not his fault though, they couldn’t be. He’s a _wicketkeeper,_ not a spinner, so how would he end up with a sprained side every Sunday? He played ODI cricket and he was a finisher- smacking bowlers for boundaries. He did not play test cricket where he needed to knock deliveries around for ones and twos for hours on end. So why did he end up with twinges in his thighs and lower back that lasted for five days and then some? Even his dad was bemused by that one- and Jos still remembers assuring his father that he had _not_ been seeing anyone at the time, nor did he have an interest in any endurance endeavours with anyone. _Especially_ not the blonde chick that had been hanging around his group of friends at the time. 

Now Jos is almost 30, and he still ends up with random spikes of pain, which are by no means his fault. But at least _now_ he knows why.

The thing is, Jos has always been told he’s an empathic person. And to some extent, that’s very true. When his sister had her heart broken for the first time, Jos had burst into her room and into her arms within seconds, because his sister was in pain and it _hurt._ Like hell. 

And when his brother had gone to save a goal in football and landed wrongly on his arm, Jos had clutched his own wrist in pain in the car, eyes widened in fear as he hurriedly told his parents to get to the field as fast as possible because his brother’s been injured and ‘we need to get him to a hospital, now.’

When things happen to his loved ones, Jos’ body takes a hit. It’s not something he’s ever been too grateful for, because more often than not it’s a damn nuisance. Except, sometimes, when it’s not a nuisance, and it's the thing he's most thankful for. 

-

Jos is asleep. Fast asleep, away with his dreams somewhere. It’s around five in the morning in Perth, and everything’s quiet and calm. Suddenly his entire body suddenly goes rigid, and he throws himself awake gasping, with cold sweat drenching through his shirt. His body feels as though he’s been paralysed, his immediate instinct is to call everyone in his family- because something doesn’t feel right. Something _hurts._ And he was asleep so surely it's not himself that he needs to worry about. 

Reaching for his phone, he calls his sister first, and even though she's probably in the middle of date night with her husband, she answers on the first ring.

_Joco? Are you okay? Are you hurt?_

_No. I’m fine. It’s not me, I’m okay Jos, I’m at home. Hubby's gone out to get dessert. Jimmy’s here too, asleep on the couch. We’re okay._

_I’m calling dad._

_Okay Jos, let me know what happens._

_Love you Joco._

He’s ended the call before he can even think of saying anything else, and when his dad picks up and says _hi Jos, nice to hear from you!_ in his usual voice, it’s a wave of relief.

_Are you alright?_

_Yes, Jos I’m okay. Why are you calling me at 3am?_

_Is mum alright?_

_Jos? Honey I’m fine._

The sheer relief Jos feels upon hearing those three words is immeasurable.

_What’s wrong with me then, something’s happened._

_Jos, you know, you can get sick too._

_But that’s not it, hang on, Chris is calling, it’s good to know you’re okay, thank you, sorry about the timing, love you._

Jos takes his teammate’s call without even hearing his parent's reply. 

_Jos? Sorry, I know it’s late but-_

_What’s happened?_

_Joe’s in hospital._

Jos’ body very nearly gives out on him right then and there.

 _He’s what!?_ Another sharp wave of anxiety hits him and he sits up, back straight as an arrow, muscles tightening. _What’s happened. Is he injured? How bad is it? Chris-_

_Severe dehydration, heat exhaustion._

_Can- Can I speak to him?_

_I’m not allowed in just yet, we just thought we should tell you._

_When you’re clear, will you please tell him to call me?_

_Isn’t it like, five-_

_Chris. Tell him to call me. As soon as you go in. Please._

_Okay Jos, will do. He’ll be okay Jossy, Jonny and I are waiting, we’ll keep you updated._

When the call ends, Jos realises how dry his mouth is. And how hot his skin feels. And how all the hairs on his arms are sticking up and how his heart is going a mile a minute and how he feels as though if he even tries to move, he’s going to fall lifelessly to the floor.

Its Joe. This entire time, it’s been _Joe._

Now that he thinks about it, of fucking course it is.

His best friend. Who he has an unmistakable bond with. Of fucking _course_ it’s Joe.

And even though the physical response is excruciating, it’s the thought that hurts him most. The thought that his best friend, his safety net and the one who makes him feel at home, is in the hospital, and that he has no guarantee of knowing whether he’s going to be okay. Jos lets his eyes flutter shut, and tips his head back, resting it against the headboard as he takes in deep steadying breaths.

The panic in his chest doesn’t subside, even as the symptoms dissipate. After about an hour, he regains control of his lower body. Another fifteen minutes and he’s finally got enough strength back to sit up without needing support, reaching for his phone, just as a FaceTime from Jonny comes through.

When Jos answers the call and sees Joe hooked to an IV, his heart almost jumps out of his throat.

“Oh my god, Joe what have you done to yourself.”

_“Jos?!”_

Briefly Jos can see the test captain give the ginger keeper a pointed glare, before a very distinct whisper shout of _‘you called Jos!? Why the fuck would you do that!?’_

He doesn’t know whether to be upset that Joe’s so unhappy that he’s been notified, or angry that Joe wasn’t going to tell him, but the younger blonde hasn’t finished his reprimands yet, continuing his whisper yelling; _‘Do you know what time it is over there?! You’ve gone and woken him up for what?!’_

“I was already awake Joe. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Joe creases an eyebrow, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”

 _“You’re_ asking _me_ if _I’m okay!?”_

“You kind of look like you’ve been through it.”

“Well excuse me if my best friend was just sent to the hospital and my body woke itself up in pain.”

There’s a registered ‘oh my god’ from Jonny, which Jos pretends not to hear, and a sharp exhale from Joe, which Jos pays way too much attention to.

“I’m okay now Jos, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you. Your stomach is in knots.”

“How did you… How would you even know that-”

There’s another ‘oh my god’, this time from Chris.

“Don’t bat today Joey. _Please._ Look after yourself. I know you want to prove yourself, but please.”

“You know I have to bat Jossy, I can’t just not show. You know I can't.”

Jos is fighting a losing battle and he knows it. Joe’s too stubborn for his own good. “Okay. But just. Call me afterwards. And promise me you’ll go off if it’s bad. Please.”

“I promise Jos.” 

The keeper scrunches his nose up unhappily, and looks to the other two men in the room. “Jonny? Chris? Would y-”

“Yeah Jos, we’ll keep you updated.”

“I’m going to miss the next match for the thunder.”

“Jos no-”

“Don’t argue with me. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Jos don’t be ridiculous-”

“I will see you tomorrow evening.”

"You do realise-"

"I will be walking into your hotel room right after your innings tomorrow. Understood?"

Joe smiles despite himself. “Okay.”

Slowly, but surely, Jos’ heart rate relaxes as he mirrors his best friend’s expression.

He does not pay any attention to the Brummie and Yorkie who are exchanging concerned glances somewhere in the background of the screen. He's too busy monitoring his best friend's vitals. From across the country. 

He’s still on edge his entire flight. And in the taxi, all the way to the hotel. And as he checks in. But when he finally gets to his room and he can visibly see that Joe isn’t two seconds from losing consciousness, and when he can walk up to his best friend and hold his face between steady palms, his adrenaline response finally deactivates.

His heart is still racing though.


	20. Long distance phone calls (and some missed voicemails)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes you're 7784 miles away from each other, with a few hours time difference, so you need to adapt. 
> 
> Joe and Jos do it well, even though they are just "best friends." 
> 
> For just "best friends", they tend to miss each other a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit angsty. Description of a panic attack, mild, however, it's still there. But Joe's around. And it's okay in the end <3 Please be safe loves. The upload schedule has been absolutely horrific, and I am posting this at 4:30 in the morning because I am anxious, can't sleep, and have a mangled rib. I love you all and I hope you smiled a lot today <3

_Joey. I know you’re probably away with the fairies but. It’s my first night here, and I can’t sleep. I saw your game, for Yorkshire, you played so well, and I’m so proud of you. Nothing new there, I suppose. Anyway, I’ll keep this short. I lo- I miss you. Goodnight._

_First of all, away with the fairies, really Jos? Really?_ Joe breathes out a laugh, and it makes Jos’ heart do this thing where it speeds up and relaxes at the same time. It’s hard to describe. _It’s a bit weird, being here, without half our squad. Marky keeps talking about how much he misses Morgs and Ben. And Chris is constantly on the phone with Jonny, I get updates minutely on David Warner, and I’m not sure that’s something I asked for… Don’t be a sap Jos._ The keeper smiles at the teasing tone. _I really miss you too._

_I’m sure you know why I called. But white flowers, amongst red roses… You have something to do with that Joseph Root?_

_I am not saying anything. Absolutely nothing._ There’s a cheeky grin that Jos can practically hear, and it brings warmth to his solar plexus. _Good luck with your first match Jossy. I’ll be watching._

_We seem to keep missing each other, I really hate this time difference. I so hope you didn’t watch tonight’s match. I don’t know what’s happened but I just- I don’t feel right. Nothing’s coming off the middle, and even though Smudge is great, I really miss my home captains. Morgs is away in Abu Dhabi, and you’re just… too far away. I don’t know what to do, Joey. This is my fourth single-digit score in a row. Nothing feels right. Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to throw everything on you like that. I just- I guess I need my best friend._

_Jos. Listen to me very carefully. A few bad scores don’t mean anything in the long run. You just came out of a week’s quarantine. You flew in and were expected to tee-off immediately. You’re not superhuman. And despite what anyone may say, you’re still one of the best in the game. Form is temporary Jos, don’t forget what you told me. I still wish I was at the non-striker’s end for you. Maybe you can pretend I’m there in place of Smith._ There’s a little something there, possibly akin to jealousy that Jos would have picked up, had he not been too busy taking his first full breath in days. _I played some golf the other day, but, it’s not the same without you fucking up every putt and smiling gorg- uh, ruefully, when I beat you. Oh and. One last thing. I’m always there to listen to you. Always._

_I don’t know what I’m doing here, Joey. I fucking miss home so bad. I hate it._

_Jos. Call me back. I’m awake. Call me back. We’ll talk. It’ll be okay._ The little inhale, and the slight crack in Joe’s voice almost, _almost,_ break him apart. _I miss ~~you~~ home too. I’ll be waiting. Call me, Jos. Please._

He picks up on the first ring.

“Joe?”

“The next time you leave me a voicemail like that, I’ll fly to Dubai and hit you over the head.”

The thing that had slithered itself around Jos’ heart unwraps itself and instead, constricts around his throat.

“Hey, breathe, I’m right here, can you sit down for me?”

Jos lets his back hit the wall and slips to the floor.

“Good, that’s good. Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m- my room,” is all he can choke out. Thankfully, Joe seems to be in a better state of mind.

“That’s good Jossy, could you tell me the five things that first come to your mind?”

“You. Batting. Gonna fuck it up, gonna disappoint everyone, gonna get dropped-”

There’s only one not-cricket-related thing on that list, so… “Me?”

“Yeah. Always. Of course.”

“I didn’t doubt you, Jos. What about me?”

“Just. I don’t know. Everything.” Jos lets out a breath. “I guess, your smile? And like, how finicky you get with your bats. And how you like to try on my keeping gloves. And how you like to sit behind me on the couch when we watch the cricket-”

“And football. Don’t forget football.” Jos can practically see his best friend’s cheeky smile.

The keeper lets out a laugh. “Could I ever?”

“What else, Jos?”

“Batting with you. Keeping while you field at first slip. Or standing at fourth slip while you stand at third when Jonny is keeping and Chris is bowling and everything is just, right. I miss it.” _I miss you._ Without noticing it, he’s managed a smile, and he no longer has to force his body to breathe.

“Did you try imagining me as Steve?”

“I couldn’t. You don’t look like that. You don’t have that presence.”

Joe’s about to be very offended.

“I don’t like it. Feels wrong. Doesn’t feel like you. If it’s not the real you then it’s not enough.”

“Oh.”

Jos tips his head back against the wall. “I could really do with a hug.”

Joe does his absolute best not to scream. “Do you remember what I said to you, in that test against Pakistan?”

“Which one? There were a few of those…”

“The one where you told me you felt you were playing your last match under my captaincy?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re better than you think Jos. You need to remember who you are and how you play. You-”

“I can’t do that when everything around me is falling apart, Joe.”

“Oh. Is she-”

“No. They’ve gotten a separate room.”

Joe presses his lips together. He’s not exactly sure how to feel.

“Do you want me there?”

“Always. I always want you here.” Jos opens his eyes and brings his head away from the wall. “Wait. What?”

“I can- I can come there. If you need.” Joe turns around and receives an encouraging smile from across the room.

“Joey, I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll be okay. I-”

Joe hurriedly walks into another room and shuts the door. “Shut the fuck up Jos. Fucking dammnit. You’re allowed to be upset. But you need to know that I’m there. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard to reach, but you’re at training or playing when I’m free, and I’m training or working when you’re free. But I promise we’ll make it work. I’ll make it work. We’ll do better.”

“I just want to come home.”

“You can’t do that yet, baby. And I know you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Unknowingly, Jos' shoulders have unclenched at the use of the endearment, and his legs uncross, body succumbing to the soothing tone of Joe's voice.

“No Jos. You want to play. You’re there to be a part of a team who adore you. It’s one and the same.”

“But it’s not the same without y-” Jos covers his mouth with his hand. Joe smiles because he caught it anyway. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right. Do you think I’m good en-”

“Fuck it.”

“What?”

“You _know_ what. Jos, batting out in the middle is what you do. Fuck the drama, fuck the anxiety, fuck all of it, none of it matters. You know what you can do.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it? I give you a motivational speech, and you give me _yeah?”_

“That’s all I have.”

“And me.”

“Yeah. And you.”

“Have you checked your suitcase’s hidden pocket?”

Jos slides his way across the floor and reaches into his bag. “No. Why?”

“Just asking.”

Joe can hear rummaging and chuckles at his best friend’s impatience. “Joe- _you didn’t-”_

“I did.”

Jos brushes his finger over the pendant delicately. “But- this is your-”

“You’re my star Jos, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Will you get some sleep now?”

“Will you stay?”

“Is that even a question? Turn on facetime,” Joe’s laughing and Jos… well, maybe he’s laughing too.

-

Two days later, when he gets his phone back after their loss to Mumbai (after his blistering knock of 70 off 44), Jos is entirely unsurprised to see a text from Joe.

**23:30 Joey**

_Absolute carnage ;)_

_Even though your team has lost the match, I’m proud of you._

_Always._

_Will be waiting for the nightly facetime, see you soon._

He presses his fingers to the pendant and smiles. And if Jos runs back to his room with the excuse that he has FIFA to play, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

When he thwacks another 70, a match-winning one, and stays not-out, he raises his bat in hope that his best friend knows, that one was for him. (They're all for him.) (And he knows that.)


	21. Dancing together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because some of us, aren't dancers.   
> Not until we have the right partner, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for my darling Robin, who reached out to me on Tumblr and requested some Tom Banton interacting with J2 and the boys <3 I hope you enjoy this darling, and I hope it is what you wanted <3 Thank you for supporting me and reaching out to me, I love you lots <3

Tom hasn’t been around the professional England cricket scene for too long.

Not in the over-19s team at least. He’s had the privilege of growing up in Somerset, with cricket royalty to look up to all his life. When he was younger, it was Marcus Trescothick, and then Ian Blackwell, both powerful middle-order batsman with ridiculous talents behind the stumps or at the bowling crease.

And there was a time, a very _short_ amount of time… when he respected (cue him gagging at the words) Craig Kieswetter. That was a dark period in his life. He feels bad for the man’s lost career or whatever, but, overall he wasn’t too nice of a guy, so… eh. Who’s mad?

Without a doubt though, Tom looks up to Jos. Not literally, because he’s 6’2 and Jos is 5’10… but whatever… (It bugs him that he can’t get to Jos about his height. The keeper always says dumb shit like ‘it’s the perfect height, Tom, you’ll understand one day.’) The point is, that Tom has been friends with Jos for a long time. They went to the same school, King’s College, and even though Tom wasn’t ever at the school at the same time as the England keeper, (he _is_ seven years younger…) they ended up becoming acquainted. More often than not, Tom is out on the balcony (or on the couch at home yelling at the TV) when Jos is batting, and he’s gone on record saying that he tries to model his game off the keeper.

And you would really think, that growing up in the same county, and playing together in the England set-up, and spending so much time together- including on international tours, would mean that Tom knows basically all there is to know about Jos, right?

Yeah, _no._

That could not be more factually incorrect.

 _Because,_ and here’s the thing right- Tom thought Jos was straight. Like, for _sure._ They haven’t caught up in a while due to covid or whatever, and of course the past few years Tom’s been off playing around the world, but… what the _hell!?_

He’s sort of terrified because he doesn’t know what he’s just walked in on. And he also doesn't know if he's just made a very incorrect assumption. 

Okay no that makes it sound bad. It’s not like that. But. This is definitely not something that friends do… right? They have to be _together._ Tom has never seen Jos do this with anyone else, absolutely no one. Jos doesn’t dance. End of story.

Except that he _does_. And that he’s currently dancing with Joe in the home team’s common kitchen at 3 am, the night after a T20 against Australia. And it’s not like, drunken dancing, or dirty dancing (cue Tom gagging _again,_ that’s twice already) but… just, _dancing._ Together. In the kitchen. To fucking Kelly Clarkson’s _My Life Would Suck Without You._

Joe’s always seemed like a very happy person, and even though he is the test captain (a bloody brilliant one at that) who's serious and tactical, he knows how to have _fun._ So it doesn’t surprise Tom too much that the Yorkie has got a wooden spoon in his hand, and is singing into it while jumping around.

What _does_ surprise him, is that Jos is doing the exact same thing (bar the wooden spoon) while standing at the microwave waiting for it to finish heating something. And when the microwave does finish and Jos places the mugs on the counter, he clasps both of Joe’s hands and pulls the younger into his chest. They’re both whisper-screaming lyrics of the song at each other, looking entirely too absorbed in each other’s company to care about anything else, let alone notice anyone around them. 

Joe looks up at the keeper, and they're definitely way too close. 

Tom’s jaw drops open and he blinks in disbelief. That’s… _wow_ okay.

The keeper raises a hand, and Joe takes it as he twirls gracefully, before falling back into Jos’ chest with a very contented laugh. Jos pushes some hair back from his… friend’s (??) forehead and puts both hands around the other blonde’s waist, and Joe wraps his arms over Jos’ shoulders.

“My life really would suck without you, Joey. Also, you look nice in my clothes.”

Joe grins and then rolls his eyes. “Mine would suck without you too. And I know.”

Without even registering it, Tom’s shocked expression has morphed into that of a very soft smile. They look so _comfortable_ with each other. Joe in Jos’ hoodie and sweats (obvious, because they’re loose on his chest and thighs) and Jos in what looks to be in matching attire (except with the hoodie actually on his head because he’s like that) holding onto each other as they sway uncoordinately, laughing at themselves.

“Cheeky.” Jos retaliates, poking at Joe’s cheek and mirroring the other blonde’s expression, staring right at him, before thumbing across his cheekbone gently. 

( _Oh,_ Tom realises. That’s what it is. Jos’ height is perfect for _Joe._ They’re levelled, eye-to-eye. Equals.)

Tom is brought out of his thoughts by a tiny shriek from Joe as Jos picks him up, before he bursts into giddy laughter again as he’s spun around in the keeper’s arms. “You love it.”

This time, Jos is the one who rolls his eyes, before they widen at the next song that comes on. Joe looks unbelievably pleased. “Joey _no-”_

“Oh but Joey _yes-”_

The batsman’s eyes light up as he opens the drawer and picks up a spatula, before yelping as he chases Jos around the counter. Jos yelps and then lets out an “oof-” because the younger blonde has just thrown himself into the keeper’s arms and shoved a spatula into his hand.

Tom has to put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. He almost jumps out of his skin when a hand is placed on his shoulder. He breathes a massive sigh of relief when a) he realises that the hand belongs to Jase and b) that he hasn’t alerted Joe or Jos to his presence.

Conspiratorily, he whispers “they’re… friends?”

Jase sighs. “Look at them,” he gestures with his arm exasperatedly.

“They’re… best friends?”

“That’s what they say...”

"But isn't Jos m-"

Jase gives Tom a _very_ pointed look. Both boys look over at the two blondes in the kitchen, Jase turning his face away and sighing, and Tom burying his face in his hands. "Dear god."

Jos has begrudgingly picked up his wooden spoon after… somehow… being coerced into duet-ing _Love Story_ with Joseph Edward Root. As begrudging as he was, the keeper has got Joe pressed to his chest in a one-armed embrace and knows all the words, as he grins brightly.

“I... I want that,” Tom says, almost in awe.

“Yeah. Most people do.” Jase smiles. “Best friends my ass,” he calls out, raising his eyebrows with a very knowing expression as Jos hangs his head (but refuses to let Joe out of his arms). 

(Not that Joe’s making a move to leave or anything.)

"Shut up Jase. Don't make me bring up Sam."

The opener can only stick his tongue out as Tom raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Hi Jase, Tom. Do you want something to eat? Jos and I were just making hot chocolate.”

Tom grins and nods, stepping into the kitchen and pulling out two more mugs. “I didn’t know you danced Jos…” he prods. 

“I do,” the keeper directs a soft smile at the test captain who’s leaning over the counter and talking to Jase. “Sometimes.”

 _Unbelievable,_ Tom thinks. He’s going to have to call Zak. These two need a shove. 


	22. Sharing Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you don't like wearing clothes that fit you right. And who better to steal clothes from, than your /best friend/ 👀 And who better to appreciate your choice of stolen clothes... than your /best friend/ 😌

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny tease, for a few people who have told me that THEY SHOULD JUST GET ON WITH IT AND KISS FOR FUCKS SAKE IM SICK OF THIS FRIENDS BULLSHIT  
> This is for all of you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Yell at me for it in the comments ;)

It’s nothing new at all. Jos is very aware of this.

But Joe seems to think it’s been a consistent feature ever since they met. And... "Surely not Joey!? From the day we first met!?"

"Absolutely."

Apparently so. Ever since that first time they came across each other at some random fair in downtown London or something… in 2006. All the way back when they were only 15 years old, and had no idea what their lives would turn out to be like- _and_ had no idea how intertwined their lives would end up being.

The keeper’s memory of this day is not as good as his best friend’s. He’ll admit that without hesitation. No doubts. Jos remembers little things, that seem insignificant but mean a lot. Like how Joe had messy hair and was always smiling. And that Joe actually sort of bumped into him completely accidentally yet somehow knew who he was. (He knew Joe too, but that’s not the point. Someone being as cricket-obsessed as him? Unheard of. Supposedly.) He also remembers the song that was playing, at the exact moment they met. 

But Joe’s revealed details about that day, that Jos has no idea if actually happened. Like the revelation that _apparently_ their tradition of wearing each other’s hoodies started _all the way back then?!_

"It happened Jossy," Joe says, with a sing-song voice that is almost doing the keeper's head in. (But not really because it's _Joe,_ so...)

“Joe I really don’t think fifteen years old me was out there giving you my-”

“Actually Jos. _I_ gave _you_ mine.”

“I’m sorry you WHAT-”

“Yep.”

Jos stares completely flabbergasted, blinking rapidly with a (probably very amusing) dropped jaw.

Joe bursts into cackling laughter and Jos simply stands there with his hands on his hips (still looking very disgruntled). “I’m kidding Jossy calm down.” He takes a look up at his best friend, before losing it again. “It- it was you. You gave me your jumper while we were walking around in the evening,” the sentence is gasped out between torrents of laughter and the batsman is almost on the floor with it.

The keeper glares at his best friend, who doesn’t even look remotely chastised. Joe rolls his eyes and jumps up, poking at Jos’ cheek with a grin. “It’s not as though you don’t wear my stuff Jossy. I saw your interview with Smith.”

“Smith…?” Jos creases an eyebrow. “Do- do you mean Smudge?” Jos is the one laughing this time, and Joe mimics the earlier position of the keeper’s- hands on hips with a very unimpressed stare.

“Well, I know him as Smith thank you very much.”

“Right. Of course. I’m _so_ sorry my dear, however shall I make this up to you-”

“Shut _up_ Jos,” Joe’s grinning and Jos is laughing, and they both probably look extremely ~~in love~~ _friendly_ with each other to anyone who may be nearby. “Anyway. I heard you on that interview. You wear tight shirts. I know you don’t buy them like that- because your wardrobe is strictly athletic wear and basketball jerseys. Everything is like, perfectly fit or just a tad bit loose. So. Which of my shirts did you take to the UAE?”

“Wait a minute; you watched my interview?”

“It was on.”

“Joe. It was posted on Instagram. You have a fucking blackberry.”

“HEY. I HAVE AN IPHONE JUST FOR YOU. It was... _there_ okay." Jos gives him a look. "Whatever, I do not obsessively stalk the royals account for posts about you and Smith, Jos, it just happened to be there…”

“Okay, Joey whatever you say.” Jos has a very smug expression plastered over his ~~gorgeous~~ face, and Joe reaches for a nearby projectile to launch in his direction. When the cushion makes full impact with the keeper's _hands,_ there's another exchange of _are you fucking kidding me how did you block that_ and _I am a wicketkeeper this is literally my job_ stares. 

Eventually, Joe seems to remember his point. “So. Which shirt was it?” he prods with a cheeky grin. Jos groans and puts his face in his hands. “I know you took one, Jossy.” _Damn sing-song voice._

“Ah. Well-” The keeper sighs. “There were three.” Joe looks _shaken._

“You… you _what._ Thank _fuck_ I thought I was the clingy one in this r-”

 _“EXCUSE_ ME!? Not you having three of my hoodies in the back seat of your car Joseph Root-”

“I GET COLD JOS DAMMNIT ITS NOT MY FAULT THAT YOU’RE A FURNACE-”

“ALSO _NOT_ YOU COMING OVER TO STAY WITHOUT ANYTHING BUT YOUR KIT AND JUST WEARING ALL OF MY CLOTHES!?”

“YOUR STUFF IS COMFORTABLE AND I DON’T LIKE CARRYING SO MUCH-”

“I KNOW THAT’S A LIE JOSEPH YOU CARRY EIGHT BATS TO TRAINING EVERY SINGLE SESSION-”

“DOES IT BOTHER YOU THAT I WANT TO WEAR YOUR STUFF?! AND WHY ARE YOU SO UPSET THAT MAYBE YOU WORE MINE FIRST!?”

In their screaming match, they’ve gotten extremely close. Like, chest to chest, nose to nose, almost lip to lip.

“Jos.”

“Yes.” The keeper's eyes flick to Joe's mouth and Jos subconsciously tongues his bottom lip.

“I’m-” Joe barely gets a word in before there’s a loud crash from the hallway, and they both jump apart, Joe looking down at his feet and Jos hiding behind his hand.

After a moment, they both smile at each other sheepishly, before Jos tugs the younger into his chest. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” Joe asks, making himself comfortable in Jos’ arms.

“I would’ve remembered it. If you gave me anything of yours.”

“Jos-”

“I would have. The first time you gave me anything of yours, was a jacket, after one of our earliest matches against each other. Before you went to Adelaide for that cricket program.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Why do _you_ like wearing my stuff?”

“It’s comfortable.”

“Joey…”

The batsman sighs and lets his head drop against his keeper's shoulder. _(Oh.)_ “It smells nice... like you. And uh. I know you don’t give them to anyone else. Although… that snap… in the hotel room-”

“Not my actual jersey Joey… you should know that.”

“Yeah. I figured. Cause I have your old one sitting in my closet at home.”

Jos grins and squishes Joe tighter into his chest, before asking quietly, “do you, uh, do you want your shirts back?”

Joe hums softly. “Wear them around me, and we’re even.” Jos rolls his eyes.

“You just want to see me in a tight shirt.”

“Should’ve known that Jossy. You _are_ the one who admitted it…”

The keeper gives his best friend a pointed look and then unzips the hoodie he’s wearing and hands it to him. Joe has to sit down.

_That’s his shirt._

“You- you- _little- get back here."_

Jos smirks and turns on his heels, dashing out of their room, Joe right on his heels as they speed past Jonny and Chris who are walking back to their hotel suite hand in hand after a quiet dinner together.

“It’s nice to have everyone back, isn’t it?” Chris grins, watching as Jos hurriedly knocks on Morgs’ door while Joe tries to pull on a hoodie (that doesn’t look like his own…) while chasing him. Jonny just sighs good-naturedly. _Dumbasses._


	23. In their fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because it's not smooth sailing all the time. And because sometimes, arguments are the most telling things about a relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY ARE GETTING THERE DARLINGS, THEY ARE, I PROMISE.

“What do you mean you don’t want to play cricket anymore Jos!?”

“I mean I’m fucking sick of being here day in and day out with the commentators breathing down my neck because I’m not as good as MS Dhoni and because I can’t score runs like Adam Gilchrist. I’m sick and tired of walking out to the middle feeling like every delivery is going to be the fucking last one I ever face-”

“THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU WALK OUT OF TRAINING LIKE THAT, AND JUST LEAVE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT. THAT’S NOT YOUR CALL TO MAKE JOS. YOU HAVE A TEAM WHO NEED YOU.”

“Need me? _Need me!?_ You did not just try to guilt-trip me by bringing up a team who have gotten by just _fine_ without me-”

“You don’t get to just up and leave like that Jos-”

“What exactly did you want me to do then Joe? _Persevere? Push through the tough times?_ It doesn’t work like that. Not when your career is being questioned every minute by people who should understand the position you’re in. Not when you’ve been stuck in a ‘tough time’ for fucking _months.”_

“TOUGH- WHAT SHIT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT WE JUST WON THE WORLD CUP, AND YOU HAD A DECENT ASHES SERIES!? WHAT TOUGH TIME!?”

“Have you literally read ANYTHING that has been put out by any of the sports news knobheads in the past two weeks? Everything is ‘Has this 50 saved Jos Buttler’s test career’ and ‘He may have a fifty, but this doesn’t solve England’s Jos Buttler problem’, and I am so sick of being in the firing line-”

“Every sportsperson deals with this Jos, you’re not exactly special. Overreacting about news articles isn’t going to help you. If you’re that upset, you may as well just stop playing, since obviously, your team doesn’t mean anything to you.”

 _“My team_ fucking means everything to me, but obviously, I don’t mean very much to any of you, if everyone can just carry on like it doesn’t matter that-”

“Like it doesn’t _matter_ what are you fucking talking about!? The world doesn’t revolve around you Jos I don’t see what the problem is, if you’re not playing well, obviously people are going to have things to say. You don’t get to just quit on us like that. That’s fucking selfish.”

Jos stares blankly. That was not something he expected. Not ever. “I don’t want to be here anymore, I don't want to be here with you,” he grits out, and then pushes through the door, past Jonny and Ben, and past the coaches, and out to his car.

He leans against the side of the door and inhales deeply. It just feels wrong. Everything feels _wrong._ It’s painful, and every breath pushes his lungs tight against his diaphragm and ribcage and his chest sparks in pain.

Jos tilts his head back to look up at the sky, eyes slipping shut as he tries to clear his thoughts. He can’t leave, Joe’s made that clear, but it doesn’t change the fact that he just wants to get in his car and drive away and change his name and be a recluse in Alaska.

Lashing out at Joe, pushing past Ben, telling the person he’s the closest to, that he feels worthless to them when there’s really no evidence for it. Derisive words that he’d never, _ever_ say like that. It’s painful because he just wants to _go,_ but how much would he lose if he did?

It's not Joe's fault that he's playing shit. It's no one's fault but his own. 

-

Joe sits down on one of the benches nearby and puts his face in his hands. “Fuck.” He rests his elbows on his knees and winces as he replays the conversation in his head.

_You may as well just stop playing._

_I don’t mean very much._

_That’s fucking selfish._

_I don’t want to be here anymore._

**_I_ _don't want to be here with you._ **

It’s true what people say, the more you love someone, the harsher you are to them. The more you _hurt_ them. This isn’t their first argument, not by a long shot. But it’s the first one where Jos has looked him straight in the eye and said something that _scathing._

Joe stays there, sitting in the changeroom by himself, none of the other boys walk in, probably having overheard the lashing comments both of them had made.

He’s not exactly sure of whether he’s more upset that Jos wants to leave, or that he feels responsible for it. Maybe it’s the fact that Jos has been dealing with it alone for so long, that he feels he has no other option than to just _go._ Really, it shouldn’t hurt this bad. Friends come and go, especially when you play a professional sport where there are only eleven spots in a team.

He thinks back, to that day in 2016, when they dropped Jos from the test squad. How much it hurt to lose his best friend, someone he’d been sharing the field with since 2012. Since that day, Joe made it a point, to stop worrying so much about the performance of the team. Yes, that's important but cherishing the time they have together is crucial.

Because losing someone that you wanted to keep around as a result of performance, is not something he was willing to accept. Especially when it's unwarranted. 

And it hurts to think that he’s failed Jos. For the second time. He won’t have it, not again. They needed this. He’s about to leave, to go home and see if maybe he can call Jos, text him, just, find a way to apologise, so they can talk properly and find a way to fix things because he’s sure that Jos will already have driven home.

Which reminds him, he’ll need to ask Jonny for a favour.

But when Joe zips up his kit and drags it outside, Jos is sitting right there beside his car, fidgeting with his fingers. The batsman quietly wheels his bag over and takes a seat next to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Jos smiles wryly at him and nods. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “So am I.”

“I don’t- I didn’t want this, I wanted to make sure this didn’t happen.”

“Joe it’s not your fault, it’s clear I’m struggling to play test cricket and-”

The smaller blonde opens his mouth to interject, but stops himself. Jos deserves to explain himself without being interrupted.

“And I’m tired of being the weak link in your team. I don’t want to be the person that makes you lose the next series, and I don’t want to be the one who- costs you your reputation as a captain.”

 _“Oh.” Fuck. I should’ve known. I really should have fucking known._ “Jos. You know, that I stand by you, right? I don’t do it because I like you. I do it because I know you’re an asset to us. Having you there is important, you give your all in every match, and you give people the confidence and experience they need to get them through matches. You pulled me through the Ashes series Jos, and I need you to understand that we do need you.”

“Joe…”

“I’m not going to be able to just change your mind Jos, but, I want you here. You’re part of this team. I’m sorry that you’ve felt you aren’t. It’s not selfish to want to leave. And if you want, we can give you a break, if that’s what you really _really_ want. I respect your decision, but-”

“You’d let me?”

Joe looks absolutely shattered. “Jos. I would never stop you from making a decision that will make you happy. What I said before, I was just, upset. I shouldn’t have-”

“You had every right to. But you have a point. Because if I just keep running away from it, it’s not going to fix anything. It’s not that I want to leave, it’s just that, maybe it was the easier option.”

“I promise. We’re not turning on you Jos. I’m not. I know what you can do. You’re here for a reason.”

Jos tips his head against Joe’s and closes his eyes as a wave of relief floods through him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I do want to be here. With you, and Ben, and our team. I didn't- I'm sorry. It’s just, the more you _love…”_

“It’s okay. Thank you for staying. And for giving me an opportunity to explain myself. And talking to me. I know you wanted to leave.”

After a few moments, Jos picks up Joe’s kit and places it in the backseat of his car.

“Are- are you…?” Joe asks.

“You’re with me, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

“Well, then. _Always.”_

Joe intertwines their fingers over the centre console as Jos drives. They’re getting there.


	24. Their Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, you can't really convey what you're feeling in your own words. So you recommend a song.

“Hey Jos, have you heard this?!”

Every time Joe says that, Jos has to smile. Because genuinely, there’s nothing better than having Joe recommend music to him. Whether it’s something he’s already heard, or whether it’s something new, Joe just gets him, and knows what he’d like to hear. “Heard what?”

The younger places an earphone into the keeper’s ear, before pressing play. From the moment the track plays, Jos knows it’s Arctic Monkeys. The first line almost throws him for a loop, but he closes his eyes and rests his head back against the sofa.

_If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot._

Somehow, it describes them perfectly. 

“So?”

“Add it in,” Jos grins, rolling his eyes playfully. “You knew I’d love it.”

“I did. But I wanted your opinion.”

“Hmm.”

Joe rests his head against Jos’ shoulder, earphones still connected as the next song flows through.

-

When Jase gets back to his room with Sam, he flops onto the bed and pokes his _boyfriend’s_ cheek. (Yep. You read right.) “You will never guess what just happened.”

Sam gives him expressive eyebrows.

“I just saw, Joe and Jos, dancing, in the fucking kitchen.”

The blonde stares at him, unimpressed, and unbothered. “Okay... and?”

Jase presses his lips together, seemingly amused at the situation. “To Kelly Clarkson, and Taylor Swift.”

There’s an ached groan, as Sam shoves a pillow over his face. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, please,” he begs.

“Nope,” Jase leans over to peck Sam’s cheek, having to shove himself slightly under the pillow to do so. He then pulls it away, leaning in to kiss him properly. “Barry was there too. He’s already made plans to cal Zak. We seriously have to do something.”

-

“Wait hang on, who’s- oh my _god_ you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What!”

“That’s Jos. And Joe.”

“Babe I don’t know who you’re talking about, there’s just- _oh”_

“Are they seriously, dancing together, to James Arthur!?”

“Why are you even surprised anymore Chris,” Sam asks, swaying, enveloped in Jase’s arms, “it’s second nature to them now.”

“Ugh, you don’t get it, you haven’t experienced what I’ve experienced.”

“Stop complaining sweetheart,” Jonny chastises, “you and I were almost as bad.”

“I object. We never slow-danced to James Arthur and told everyone we were ‘best friends’ Jonny. Never ever can I recall us doing that.”

The keeper sighs, the four of them watching the two blondes, dancing gently together, Joe twirling under Jos’ arm happily, laughing away.

Joe mouths _this is on our playlist right,_ and Jos nods enthusiastically with a grin. _Duh, it’s our song!_

Sam sighs, and rests his head back on Jase’s shoulder.

-

“Jos!” Joe comes screaming into the team’s common room, looking an absolute frazzled mess. He’s got one foot covered in a sock, and one barefoot, and his shirt is crumpled and only just pulled on- Sam can tell from the way it’s haphazardly resting on his shoulders, off-centre.

The keeper in question jerks up from his spot on the couch immediately. “What happened?! What is it!?”

“DID YOU KNOW THAT WE HAVEN’T GOT _THE SONG_ ON OUR PLAYLIST?!”

The moment Joe says it, Jos blanches, and looks as though he is going to pass out in complete and utter _shock_ and horror. _“What,”_ he asks, jaw dropping as he shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone in a sort of panic that Sam would laugh at if he wasn’t genuinely and legitimately scared for the two Josephs.

Jos scrolls through… something?... on his phone, before uttering an “oh my fucking god that is abhorrent.” There’s a moment, before- “oh my GOD!?”

_“I KNOW-”_

“I’ll add it in right now. Ridiculous, I am appalled.”

Jos looks holistically _disgusted,_ and Joe’s expression physically relaxes as he (presumably) sees the song added to their… playlist? (Sam is guessing here, he’s really quite confused.) Joe grins up at his best friend, waves quickly at Sam, and skips back to his room, from which the song can be incoherently heard.

“Uh. Jos. You wanna maybe explain what the fuck just happened?”

“So Joe and I met when we were like, 15, at this fair in 2006. And there was this song, which was playing when we met. And basically what just happened, was that this song wasn’t on our playlist- which, is truly abhorrent seeing as it’s-” Jos cuts himself off, and arches an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You remember the song. That was playing. When you met. As friends. Fifteen years ago.”

“Yes? Don’t you and Jase have ‘your song’… I don’t know what it is, but like, don’t you have one?”

“Yeah…” Sam grins at him fondly, saving this particular memory so he can share it with his _boyfriend._ “So, uh, just out of curiosity, what was the song?” Sam knows, from his conversations with Jase, that he should probably expect something tooth-rottingly disgusting, like Love Story (which apparently they were singing together in the kitchen?) or something by James Arthur, who seems to be a favourite among most of their team.

“She Moves in Her Own Way, do you know it?”

Sam was _not_ expecting that. “The _love song!?_ By The Kooks!?”

Jos nods, seemingly impressed that Sam happens to know the tune. 

-

A few days later, Sam and Jase are walking out to Joe’s car, the four of them heading out together to meet Morgs, Ben, Mark, Chris and Jonny at the bar they’re going to for drinks. “Thanks for driving us Joey,” Jase says as he slips into the back seat beside his boyfriend. Jos is already in the front seat, phone connected to the car’s system, popping up on the dash (recognised by Joe’s car) as ‘Jossy <3’.

Jase facepalms and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Oh, of course, Jos and I aren’t drinking tonight anyways.”

“Is the AC alright?” Jos asks, “normally Joey and I keep it at 22, but if you’d like me to-”

“We’re fine Jos, thank you.”

_Isn’t this Joe’s car?_

_What difference does that make, they spend all their time together anyway._

_You have a point there._

The entire drive there, the two boys in the back exchange expressions of disbelief, as song after song comes through the speakers, Joe and Jos knowing all the words, the latter singing softly as he stares at the former while he drives, both sneaking glances at the other as though they were in _love._

Jase supposes, that if they can't tell each other how they feel, this is their way of showing it, so they don't fucking _explode._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A quick list of the songs that were mentioned in this chapter…)  
> I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys   
> My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson  
> Love Story - Taylor Swift   
> Say You Won’t Let Go - James Arthur  
> She Moves in Her Own Way - The Kooks


	25. Actually saying it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because you may have always known, but now you can hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an emotional chapter for me to write, because, it brings one of my most loved works to a close. To everyone who's dropped me a comment, or a kudos, or has simply been here for a read, thank you so fucking much. 
> 
> I hope this is a satisfying ending, to 24 chapters of these two dancing around each other. I love all of you so much, thank you for reading, and I hope that I can continue keeping you guys entertained and smiling. 
> 
> <3 Lots and lots of love, Zee.

Jase, Sam, Jonny, Chris, Morgs, Ben, Mark- and Tom and Zak (who are present over FaceTime), are gathered in the team conference room.

“Okay. Who’s first?”

“Alright, we’re new here, but uh, what the fuck,” Tom says.

“Look. When we were at the door, waiting to go bat, Jos and I were talking, and he just- he sounded different. He didn’t talk that way about Wiz when he made his match-winning innings, not about _himself,_ when he made his century.”

“Jase was there, but uh, I walked in on them dancing together in the kitchen, at 3 am. Listen, I’ve known Jos since he was young, looked up to him. I was at his school, he has _never, and I mean ever,_ danced with anyone like that.” Tom adds.

“I heard about this, but the fact that it was LOVE STORY BY FUCKING TAYLOR SWIFT!?” Sam yells. “Also did you guys know that Joe and Jos both remember the song they met to!?”

“Oh _Christ,_ what was the song?!” Morgs asks, pen pressed against his notepad in anticipation.

“The Kooks… She Moves in Her Own Way.”

“Oh my fucking god-”

“I agree, thank you, Ben.”

“HOWEVER, that is not as bad as what happened when I dropped Jos home that night after Jimmy’s stag do,” the taller ginger interjects. Everyone sits up with interest. Morgs and Mark both put their hands in their faces with agreeing utterances. “Joe was staying at Jos’ place that night. Jos called him, telling him that he reached safely, and then- I am being serious here, said that ‘I’m not home yet Joey, you’re not here’ and I-”

“THIS IS NOT OKAY!” Tom yells, slightly belated, but still very much so accepted by everyone else. Zak pets his shoulder consolingly, with a very endeared smile.

“This is the same as what happened with Joe, when he was drunk, and wouldn’t do anything we asked until Jos arrived and took him home- at 2 am,” Chris adds.

“Did you know that Joe won’t take pills unless either he or Jos confirms what they are, because he only fucking trusts him!?” Jonny says.

“Jimmy was talking about this to Stu and Finny who told me, actually,” Morgs affirms. “Happened when Joe was sick.”

“Yeah Jos carried him back to his room, Chris, Jonny, Ben and I saw him on their way.” Mark shuffles tighter into Ben’s side.

“Actually- about that first point, Jos gives up a lot of his time for Joe. I was talking to his sister the other day, and she told me that Jos left her alone in his apartment to drive down to Yorkshire- to fucking do Joe’s dishes!?” Jase looks completely and utterly exasperated, and that is fair enough.

“AND, let us not forget that one time when Jos gave up playing COD so he could give his ‘best friend’ a hug- like, that was something else. Hearing them over the mic, they’re whipped for each other.”

“Our wikkie also was the one writing Joe post-it notes, but no one is allowed to tell Joe okay, I promised him.”

Mark and Eoin smile at Ben, completely endeared, absolutely in love. They know how much Jos means to Ben and vice versa. _They_ are best friends. Joe and Jos? Not so much.

“Yeah, Joe almost had a heart attack when he saw Jos had been in the rain.

Ben makes a _stunning_ impression of the scene which has everyone on the floor. _“Oh Jos, come here, no wait, I’m coming there, don’t move, oh the love of my life you can’t get sick, let me help, let’s cuddle SHIRTLESS-”_

But they’re not always this… disgustingly sappy,” Chris says. Everyone looks at him in confusion- except, of course, his boyfriend, who nods in agreement, and another ginger, who was there for this particular facetime call.

“Half the time they don’t even realise they’re doing it!” Ben agrees.

“For example; Jos feeding Joe, bringing him dinner early and sharing hotel rooms because they’re ‘tired’ or some shit-”

“Or Jos carrying Joe to the car, sipping from each other’s glasses,” Chris continues, before he’s cut off by Ben who…

“OR THE FACT THAT JOE WAS WEARING JOS’ KEEPING GLOVES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PITCH WHEN YOU’RE LITERALLY BANNED FROM SHARING EQUIPMENT DUE TO THE FUCKING CORONAVIRUS-”

Zak bursts into laughter, “Bessie and I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP WITH THAT, Broady and Chris both were having some sort of eye-conversation too…” Tom rests his head on Zak’s shoulder and chuckles softly.

“I heard about this from Zaky… you guys have to put up with some _shit.”_

“They’re awful on the field in general, like, Joe stands at first slip, refuses to let anyone else in that spot, solely so he can keep track of Jos and make sure that he isn’t hurt while, you know, _he does his fucking job.”_

“Okay that’s fucking adorable, Jos always throws him the ball too, _and_ it’s without looking, he just trusts that Joe is there,” Jonny says. Some of the lads look at him in confusion. “I watched the whole series,” the ginger keeper says, “Jos and I are close, and Joe’s my fellow Yorkie,” he finishes with a soft smile. Chris kisses his cheek.

“Did you guys see Joe hiding behind the fucking window when Jos was given out on 99?”

Every. Single. Person. _All of them,_ groan in remembrance. “I just remember standing there and wondering why Joe was so nervous. He wasn’t even due to bat!? And then I remembered, _oh, they’re in love, of course.”_

“I was out there with him,” Zak interrupts, “he knew he hadn’t hit it, and he was looking up at the dressing room, muttering about _I hope Joey is okay, he was really nervous this morning, I hope I haven’t disappointed him.”_

“It’s all so absentminded, it’s like, natural.”

“The photo Joe posted of them, in the last ODI of the summer, they were competing, just in a makeshift race,”

“TO CHOOSE HOW THEY WERE GOING TO FUCKING SPOON-”

Sam chokes on his own breath, and Jase hits his back, slightly alarmed.

“Jof and I were watching actually. We were talking about how being around them makes you want a boyfriend. They made _Jofra,_ want a boyfriend.” Mark says, from Ben’s shoulder.

“They even go to each other’s family dinners,” Jonny remembers, as Chris throws his hands up in frustration.

“I really thought they were going to tell each other that day, but, nope, they were planning what to wear and who was driving.”

“It’s pretty cute though, the way they choose each other’s outfits. They were wearing each other’s ties at Steve and Tim’s wedding. I remember cause Pat had invited us on his behalf- Thunder boys and all that.”

“Speaking of Smith, he and I actually overheard Jos leaving a few messages to Joe during the IPL. They were almost facetiming every night, and Jos had switched rooms midway through, to a single suite, by himself. Joe sounded very bothered, especially when Jos wasn’t feeling great.”

“Jos always gets antsy when Joe’s in pain too. That one Ashes series, when Jos was in Perth for the BBL, he was an absolute wreck. When we called him, he was already awake, completely distraught until he actually could see Joe- when he flew over, early, to spend a few nights with him.”

There’s a moment of silence before Morgs taps at his notepad. “Is everyone done?” He gets the affirmative with many nods from around the room (and Jase’s phone, which still has Barry and Creepy on it, significantly interested). He nods, seemingly impressed.

“They almost kissed last week.” He drops quickly. “They were arguing about something, and they had gotten very very close, Joe had a hand in Jos’ shirt, but _someone,_ dropped their water bottle and they jumped apart.”

Mark facepalms. “I’m SORRY, BUT THEY WERE SO CLOSE, AND I JUST-”

The door suddenly opens, and Joe and Jos walk in talking animatedly to each other- before seeing everyone gathered together. “Who was so close?” Jos asks quietly.

“And why are you all here?” Joe just looks confused.

Hesitant glances are exchanged between everyone, before _Zak,_ pipes up. “You two need to get your shit together.” Plain and simple. Tom looks at him in amazement. The blonde gives him a small smile.

“Eh? What?” Joe looks incredibly confused, but Jos seems to have caught on.

“Oh, _fuck.”_

“Jos?”

The keeper shakes his head at Joe, with very nervous eyes.

“Ben?”

“You and Jos need to talk. It’s driving the rest of us crazy, and it needs to stop.”

Joe’s stance becomes defensive immediately. “Jos and I need to stop what exactly? I never took you, lads, to be the type to discriminate because of how close we are. We should be encouraging closer friendships as part of-”

“YOU’RE NOT FUCKING _FRIENDS_ JOE. EVERYONE HERE CAN SEE THAT. EVERYONE EXCEPT THE BOTH OF YOU!”

Tom and Zak both groan and throw themselves off-screen, falling back into the couch. Jase and Sam look at each other in shock. Chris has his head in Jonny’s shoulder, and the ginger keeper is making very aggressive gestures at Jos with his eyes. Eoin, Ben _and_ Mark are doing the same to Joe. The younger doesn’t seem to get it, but Jos looks like he is about to _tear_ out of the room in fear.

“Erm, I’m pretty sure we are friends, why else would we spend so much time together?” Joe’s expression seems awfully confused. “Why would we study together, and why would I bring Jos flowers when I stay at his place, and why would Jos bring dinner home for us to share when he stays at mine, why would I be the only person Jos trusts to stay for nightmares, and why would we end up hurting each other the most when we fight if-”

Something has clicked. Something somewhere has clicked. Extremely cautiously, as though Joe knows how stressed Jos is, the younger turns to face him.

“Jos?”

“Yeah?”

Everyone holds their breath.

“Are we friends?”

“I-” The keeper looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights, until-

“TELL HIM, JOS!” Zak yells.

Jos is already halfway out the door and under the night sky. Joe runs out after him almost immediately. (After a quick “FUCKING GO JOSEPH ROOT DON’T MAKE ME-” from Ben.)

“Jos!” the younger is almost out of breath, but it’s more from the situation than from the running. He grips Jos’ forearm gently, asking again, between some deep breaths “are we? just friends?”

“I don’t… I don’t just see you as my friend. Although, if you wanted us to stay like that, we absolutely could, I’m so happy having you with me, whether we’re like this or whether you’d kiss me awake every morning, you know I don’t- I don’t wear _it_ anymore, and I can’t bring myself to because I just really love you and-”

“Jos, will you please, please just fucking kiss me?”

“God yes,” he breathes out, gently leaning forward, and pressing their mouths together. “You- can I touch you?”

In response, Joe brings the keeper’s hands to his neck, allowing him, encouraging him, to touch and feel and _hold._

Jos moans quietly, as he deepens the kiss, hands finally given the permission they’ve been aching for- since _ever._

To feel Joe’s body, to brush across his sides, down his abdomen, around the alluring curve of his neck, over places he’s wanted to touch for _ages,_ places on Joe’s body that he’s wanted to kiss and caress and touch and hold and mark, but would never admit if he was asked. His fingers flutter gently over Joe’s skin, committing the younger’s body to memory, gripping lean muscle as he slowly gives in to it.

“Jos?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t- I convinced myself we’d moved on, and it just hurt too much even to consider the thought that maybe I had a chance. You’re just, so perfect for me, you always have been, and I tried to force it otherwise, and it just didn’t work. Everything about you is just beautiful, and I don’t really-”

“You always had a chance. You were the only one who _ever_ had a chance.”

“You’re not going to just, leave in the middle of the night because you regret your decision?”

“Jos. You’re taking me up to our room, and we’re going to kiss for hours until we can’t breathe, and then I’m going to steal your clothes, and we can walk to training together, and nothing has to change because we’ve always been friends but god, have I always loved you.”

Joe grips the fabric of Jos’ unzipped hoodie between his fingers as he tries to commit all of this to memory _._ Jos is so fucking _warm,_ pressed up against him in the biting wind outside in the late Lancashire night, and Joe doesn’t want to ever let him go. But he has to, and when they finally step apart, the distance is too much for either of them to handle- and Joe’s lurched forward to throw himself into Jos’ arms, pushing his face into his neck and _breathing._ And all of a sudden everything makes sense, and it’s all just… right.

The keeper clutches him tightly, briefly registering how perfectly they’re matched, how his hands can cup Joe’s face just perfectly, and how easily their fingers slip together, and how nice it is that he doesn’t have to lean up or down, because Joe is lithe and beautiful but just the right height for him to hold and to _kiss._

Jos stares. He can’t help himself (he has never been able to), but now that he’s allowed to, he’s going to fucking take advantage of that. He flicks his gaze over sharp cheekbones, the soft curvature of Joe’s cupids bow, and the smooth arch of his lip. It’s enough to make Joe part his lips for him, as he pulls Jos closer again, pushing his tongue into his mouth desperately.

Joe groans into the keeper’s mouth, muffled by the sound of their tongues moving against each other and moves his arms around Jos’ neck so that he can tangle fingers into his hair. When the older blonde nips at his lip, Joe’s fingers grip tighter, prompting Jos to squeeze his waist with a soft groan. Joe responds eagerly, sucking lightly at Jos’ tongue and the keeper almost loses it completely. “Sweetheart, upstairs, please-”

Joe pulls them through the door and into their room on autopilot. As if that's all he'd been thinking about for the past week. Jos is too absorbed with having Joe in his arms, too preoccupied with how he can finally hold him and touch him and _love him_ and give him everything, that he forgets how to let them breathe. Joe pulls away gently, keeping his hands placed on Jos’ chest, not wanting to step away completely. “Jos- you’re gonna kill me,” he gasps.

The keeper just takes the sight in. Joe’s pupils are dilated, and his chest is heaving softly, and his lips are only slightly swollen, and it’s too alluring to stay away from. He busies himself with kissing up Joe’s neck, from his collarbone and up the centre of his throat, nosing up the underside of his chin as he works his apartment door open. “You’ll get used to it. I’ll kiss you like this every single time. I won’t take you for granted.”

Joe looks at him, wide-eyed and innocent, and a little awed.

“Joey? I’m sorry did I misread mmf-”

“Shut up Jos. Kiss me.”

Joe can feel Jos’ breath ghosting over his lips a moment before there’s a gentle pressure. He can feel Jos’ pulse as his hand moves to brace the side of the keeper’s neck, as Jos’ hands rest over the base of his spine, as he leans back against the arm of the sofa, bringing Joe to climb over him. The keeper’s hand moves to his thigh, gripping the muscle tightly as if to assure them both that this is _real_ and that they’re _here._

“Jos. Why did you stop.”

“Sweetheart,” Jos’ eyes flick between Joe’s hands, lips and eyes, each one more beautiful than the last. “You’re in my lap. There’s an angel who I’ve wanted to kiss for _years,_ in my lap. Give me a moment. I’m appreciating you.”

Joe rolls his eyes lovingly and settles more comfortably into his choice of chair (Jos’ lap). “I don’t hear you appreciating, _babe,_ you sound like you’re complaining,” he points out.

The keeper leans forward, til they’re millimetres apart, and flicks his tongue out against Joe’s bottom lip, eyes slipping shut as he tugs it between his teeth. “I could _never.”_

“I-” Joe’s cut himself off, too enthralled with the feeling of Jos’ tongue gliding gently across his bottom lip, and then tracing a path to his neck. Even like this, while Jos is trapped below him, he’s got this sort of _control._ Perfect bastard.

Joe’s in no position to stop himself from letting out a broken whine, melting into Jos’ arms as the keeper sucks at his throat. There’s a low chuckle that has him weak.

“Oh _fuck-”_ Joe hisses, gripping at Jos’ back harshly. “God, I’ve wanted you. You know that? I’ve wanted you so fucking much,” he confesses, fingers working to ruck the keeper’s shirt up so he can _touch._ “Just to hold you and love you-”

“I’ve wanted you more. So much more.” Jos kisses his neck gently, appreciatively, as he feels Joe’s hands tug at him. “What are you thinking about?” Jos whispers as he moves to bite softly, _so fucking softly,_ at Joe’s neck, right under his jaw. “Are you thinking about that day, last week?”

Joe nods, fingers clenching tighter in the keeper’s shirt, hips stuttering as Jos’ teeth catch the flesh a little harder. “That day, when we got so fucking close, I was going to kiss you right there, I had my hands in your shirt and I just…”

“That night on the phone, I called Joco, and I told her how bad you are for my self-control. She told me I should’ve just put us both out of our misery and kissed you. I really _really_ wanted to."

“And?” Joe says, almost breathless. “Am I still bad for it?”

“Absolutely terrible,” Jos breathes out, and Joe stays where he is, terrified that if he moves, Jos is going to get up and leave, not kiss him, and not hold him. He waits, for the keeper to do _something,_ to move, to stop leaving them on this precipice where they just _want_ and can’t _have._

“Jos?”

The keeper shifts them slightly, laying them side by side on his sofa, nose to nose, as he asks, “You- love me?”

“I love you,” Joe affirms. 

“You’re still my best friend?”

“I could never be anything else.”

“How about my husband?”

“We’ll get there,” Joe says, with a wonderfully soft smile that makes Jos' heart do things in his chest. 

The keeper grins into his future-husband’s neck, as Joe’s fingers play softly over his bare ring finger. “Zak gets the first invite, okay?”

Joe laughs, and it’s like fucking _magic._ “Okay. Whatever you say, my love.”

Jos leans forward, and asks again, “baby, can I please kiss you?”

There isn’t even a moment’s delay before Joe leans forward, and kisses him. _It's already become second nature._ “I do love you, Jos.”

“I know Joey. You’ve been showing me since we were fifteen.”

“An ‘I love you’ back would be nice…”

Jos’ eyes sparkle, as he sits up and shrugs himself out of his hoodie, placing it over Joe’s shoulders.

The younger scrunches his face up, and quickly ducks it into Jos’ chest.

“I do love you too, Joey. And I promise to keep showing you.”

_You know, you always knew. But now I can tell you._

"You don't even need to try. It's just, us." 

Jos hums contently, fingers stroking through soft hair that's tickling the underside of his jaw. There are a few quiet moments, before, inevitably- 

"Can we get back to the kissing now?"

Jos rolls his eyes playfully- but obliges Joe without a moment's hesitation. 

_(25._ Jos adds to his mental list, of how they tell each other, how fucking in love they are. Now he can tell him. Every damn day. It's definitely not the most important, but as his future-husband says, it's nice to hear.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A flight to remember](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359795) by [Cricket_crazy28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cricket_crazy28/pseuds/Cricket_crazy28)




End file.
